


That Which They Defend

by Narnvaeril (AnnEllspethRaven)



Series: Peace and War [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Last Alliance of Elves and Men, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Permanent Injury, Physical Disability, Polyamory, Second Age, War of the Last Alliance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-05 22:06:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 74,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12803388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnEllspethRaven/pseuds/Narnvaeril
Summary: “War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two TowersThis is the sequel to "There is Always Hope". While it can be read on its own, I recommend starting at the beginning.





	1. Tidings from Annúminas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spamberguesa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spamberguesa/gifts), [Zhie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/gifts).



> When I wrote "There is Always Hope" the thought lingered that the potential existed to write a sequel. I imagined that the next installment would explore the courtship of Elrond and Celebrían. Except, when I began researching the source material, this teensy detail of something called the Last Alliance was in the way, if it mattered to continue telling lesser-known details of the elven realms of Middle Earth. And, I was invited/encouraged to participate for the first time in NaNoWriMo. This story is the result of that effort. I thought this would be a fairly straightforward tale to tell--it wasn't. When Tolkien conceived this period in the Second Age, he left information and details about it scattered all over the place, much like an Easter-egg hunt; digging up all this disparate information felt much like peeling an onion by layers. I'm pretty sure I will revise and tinker with the text more over time but, I hate to let perfectionism stand in the way of setting it free. There will be another story installment to come...sooner or later.  
> Thanks go out to both Spamberguesa and Zhie. Without one, I would have gone batty trying to write this, and without the other, it never would have been written. Which is which? Good question...:-)

 

{Second Age, 3360}

Elrond’s face bore an unusual sense of gravity. From the moment she had stepped into the council-chamber at the overlook, a thick sense of tension arrested Estelwen’s usually cheerful bearing. Erestor’s new assistant, Maidhion, was already busily preparing the document that would record the proceedings. With a slight frown, her sharp eyes registered his obvious discomfort, and deeply wondered. Well, like as not she would find out soon enough. Seating herself, and laying out her own quills, ink and paper, the pattern of her usual methodical, exacting motions were followed. Then, she folded her hands in her lap and sat impassively. Today there would be no smile on account of the thick cushion placed on her seat; an allowance to her small stature. As the others filed in, her eyes tracked them with intent focus, searching for signs carefully hidden in neutral expressions.

Tall Glorfindel arrived, not so much as glancing at her or Elrond. His blue cloak flowed out behind him; it was yet in the cool of morning and springtime had barely moved the winter’s chill. This ellon she knew too well, and the profound sense of unease on the face of the able warrior revealed that much was amiss. The glittering blue eyes raised, once, to meet her gaze. No hint remained of their sensual play just a few night’s previous; Erestor, his petite wife and the powerful seneschal were yet fast friends and discreet lovers when their private lives allowed for such amusements. The hardness glinting there spoke volumes; this assembly would not be considering expanding the stores, the construction of another outlying village within the valley or the refuge’s plans for next Yule.

With a flicker of a frown, Estelwen averted her eyes in favor of the next arrival--her mate, dark-robed Erestor, shadowed by their peers Bercalion and Barathion. Erestor, who could effectively hide nothing from her for long, even if he tried. He did not try. Open worry pooled in his expressive eyes, as he came alongside to sit next to his wife, courteously kissing the back of her hand before arranging his documents. This brought a genuine smile to her face. In all their years together, he had never ceased his passionate adoration of her; their love had never grown stale. So much happiness, and yet the mirth fell from her expression at the fear that somehow their ordered and pleasant lives were about to become anything but.

Barathion seemed calm; the only thing this really revealed to Estelwen was his current ignorance of whatever agitated the others. Given to emotion by elven standards, his value to Lord Elrond was something of a mystery in her eyes. A few new faces entered; stern men whose names she knew not, and to her surprise Gildor, who more often traveled the plains of Eriador. Only rarely, did he and those of his company rest in the welcoming halls of Imladris. This would be...interesting.

Finally Elrond turned to the table, knowing somehow that all were in place. “Maidhion, this will not be an ordinary meeting. With your Master’s consent, I would ask that what is spoken be recorded without attention to the usual procedures. I would appreciate the closest to a transcript that you can manage.” A meaningful glance at Erestor brought a gesture of gracious acquiescence from his chief advisor. An expression of relief flitted across the junior scribe’s face, vanishing as quickly as it arrived. The corners of Estelwen’s mouth tugged at her early memories of serving her husband; how much she had feared to displease him! Not because he had been harsh or demanding; quite the opposite. The gentle but exacting scholar simply had a way about him that inspired others to offer their best, and this poor ellon had no immunity to that influence.

“This is Theren, and with him Mathol,” Elrond explained. “They come by order of the Dúnedain king Elendil, from Annúminas.”

Estelwen’s eyes remained fixed on her golden friend, as she watched the muscles of his jaw compress in pure anger. Catching the widening eyes of his meldis, Glorfindel looked away, and worked harder to master his emotions. For he knew Estelwen well, and that the day’s news would deeply unsettle her. He was looked to for strength, and not just by the lone elleth who ranked on this council. The same hidden anxiety flecked Erestor’s eyes, for while his friend was no coward, neither was he a gifted fighter--with the sole exception of knife throwing. He had never asked, and never been told what lay at the root of that seeming dichotomy. Perhaps he should, but now was not the time.

“They bring important news,” Elrond finished, gesturing to the men to speak.

“There are tidings from Minas Ithil,” Theren gravely related. “We feared the enemy had returned to Mordor, fleeing the same destruction that unhomed us and swallowed our lands into the abyss. But now we are sure. Smoke and fumes veil the land inside the mountains, but there are yet means to see inside. That includes spies. The great fortress of Barad-dûr is re-occupied. The sounds of activity ring out from pits. Orcs and other foul servants multiply. Our king feels it portends nothing good, and wishes to share this information and whatever is to follow with our elven friends and allies.”

“And it is much appreciated,” muttered the golden Lord. “It was too much, to hope peace would last.”

“We yet have time,” Elrond said, laying a hand briefly on the shoulder of the great warrior. “Time to prepare. I think I need not say,” Elrond now directed his comments at Theren, “that we are most grateful to have been told.”

The man smiled, making a gesture of reverence. “The palantíri were the generous gifts of your people to ours. It would be most ungrateful, to do otherwise.” His brow furrowed. “And yet we are ever the rabbits the hounds flush and run to ground. It was no different when Sauron came to us, a serpent in the blades of grass until the seeds of his corruption bore bitter fruit. Our hearts are torn. The Blessed Powers were right to serve justice upon Westernesse for the evil and degradation the Dark One brought. And yet we are grieved, for the memory of what was fair yet endures. Now we must ever mourn its passing.” He touched the side of his head, his gray eyes bearing untold sorrows in memory. The slaughter. The sacrifices. The screams of the innocent...yes, they had much reason to despise Sauron, for they were well aware of his power.

“It is true,” Elrond said, “that ever has he and the Accursed One he serves acted, and we have reacted. And yet what real choice have we had, when to us life and love are precious but to our enemy they are but a weakness to be exploited? He can make mistakes, and yet little has changed.”

“I respectfully disagree, my Lord,” the blond said through jaws that struggled to relax. “No dragons will set upon us. Nor the demons of flame, or Morgoth himself.”

Estelwen struggled to keep her features neutral, but the obvious pain in Glorfindel’s expression could not be missed by those closest to him. They had never asked him, and he had never volunteered. What she knew of the fall of Gondolin was enough, and the thought of the death the beautiful one before her must have endured threatened to ruin her composure. He was trueness and solace and the ecstasy of love shared freely. To imagine otherwise should not be visited on the Children of Ilúvatar, and yet it most certainly was their burden; the cost of their choice to remain on these shores.

The Lord of Imladris chose not to transform this observation into a point of discussion, wisely deferring. “Your point is well taken,” he replied mildly, continuing on. “It will rest with you, primarily, to begin preparations, Glorfindel. Training. Ensuring that we are well-provisioned and organized to respond quickly to whatever transpires. While it is my belief that we have many years, I will not stake our collective safety on that surmise; he has moved suddenly and without warning in the past.”

“I have not forgotten,” Glorfindel whispered, his eyes locking onto Erestor’s. “I too was there, at your side. The War of the Elves and Sauron, they called it after. He deceived our people, as ever he has done. Our Lord Ereinion, true-hearted, did not give his trust when those in Ost-in-Edhil did. Ever has Sauron, Mairon of Aulë, found a welcome ear among the Noldor with their desire to master metals and gems; the works of the smithy. And then Celebrimbor paid the bitterest price; Annatar’s deception cost him suffering and a brutal death.” The golden Lord all but spat the hated name while he spoke. “And then we all would have met our ends, but for the faithful of Númenor,” came the softer conclusion. His eyes lifted in gratitude to the men present, who bowed their heads in acknowledgement of the honorable words. “What does the High King Gil-galad say of these matters? Surely he too is aware?”

“He is,” Elrond acknowledged, his gaze returning to the western expanse of the valley below them. “And he will prepare his forces as well. I count myself fortunate to have you, Glorfindel.”

“I have sworn to defend this refuge, and have not yet failed. But I will not dissemble; this news grieves me deeply.”

“As it did all of us, Lord,” Theren said with deep respect. He had heard of but never before seen the renowned elven warrior, and now felt greater admiration than before. Only a fool beat his chest, and spoke with relish of the chance of war. The wise, having seen enough, saw only a necessary evil they would give much to avoid.

Glorfindel looked searchingly into the man’s face, and then gave a nod of understanding. “Then I will begin to ready Imladris,” he said, his eyes roving now to the three scribes seated across from him. “And that will include everyone.”

Estelwen met his gaze levelly and cocked an eyebrow, seeing in his demeanor something of a challenge to her. She glared at the giant seneschal for the briefest of moments, before averting her glance to Erestor. Her lips parted to see that her husband had gone from his usual pale beauty to being nearly drained of color. He looked down at his notes so that his hair hid his face whilst he made a show of writing; lips firmly pressed together. Something had struck him deeply, and she did not understand. Yet.


	2. Lessons for Alagos

 

Alagos respectfully approached his parents when the noon hour arrived; as the son of the chief advisor, it was his privilege to sit near the great ones of Imladris. Taking his father's hand, he gave it a gentle squeeze before doing the same to his mother; he would sit opposite them, and on many days this meant he would sit next to 'uncle' Glorfindel. He knew that he was no blood relation of the Vanya, just as he knew that should somehow anything ever befall his parents, Glorfindel had sworn a solemn vow to care for Alagos as he would his own. Twenty summers had passed, since the dark-haired elfling was birthed to Estelwen. He had much of his father's appearance and beauty, retaining only one feature from his mother. One eye was chocolate brown, but the other bore the same strange heterochromia as his mother; the iris was three-quarters brown with the remainder being a pale blue.

Named for the powerful storm that shook the valley on the day of her labor to bring him into the world, his appearance could be initially disconcerting to those who did not know him. Yet anyone and everyone was swiftly won over by the child's innate grace, intelligence and kindness. Alagos very much had his parents' gentle disposition, and he was the pride of their lives--a great blessing of Eru. "Adar, emel, how was your council meeting?" he inquired with his usual cheerful politeness.

"Alright, ionneg," Erestor quietly replied, bending low to kiss his son's head. "Thank you for asking."

Estelwen stared unbelievingly at her husband, wishing that if he were going to attempt deception, he might make a better effort. "And how were your lessons this morning?" she queried her son, attempting to divert his attention from his father's woefully inadequate response. "Did you not say that Master Salfir would ask for an original story to be written as an exercise today?"

Agalos' little face broke out in smiles. "It was, emel. I finished in the time given," he added proudly.

"May I ask, of what you wrote?" Estelwen pressed as she seated herself.

Her son darted a slightly worried glance to his father, who did not appear to be paying him any mind. His small finger discreetly pointed at Erestor, which immediately allowed Estelwen to perceive that perhaps her son did not wish this tidbit spoken aloud. However, a guess at what topic her son had chosen brough a broad smile to her face. "Later?" she mouthed at Alagos, winking as she spoke.

"Yes emel," the child smiled, grinning even wider to see Glorfindel now seating himself in the next place over. The large hand came over his shoulder, drawing him into a half-hug.

"And how is my clever nephew today?" The seneschal had a worse weakness for Alagos than for Estelwen or Erestor, which was saying a great deal.

"I am very well my Lord, thank you," he piped, flushing with pleasure at the attention.

_ Twenty years it has been _ , Glorfindel thought, never failing to recall the first moment the newborn was placed in his arms, still bloodied from birth. For Estelwen had insisted he be there for her delivery, not trusting for a moment that her beloved but sometimes emotionally fragile husband would be enough of a support for her. Elrond attended too, and one of the midwives, yet it was into Glorfindel's waiting hands that the little elfling was expelled from her exhausted body. "I am glad," he answered aloud. "I hope you will forgive me, when soon I must add to your studies," the golden Lord said cryptically.

"Add? What do you mean, my Lord?" The child's manners were always beautiful, reverent. So little of that had needed teaching, either. His genuine love and affection for Glorfindel was eclipsed only by the regard in which he held his parents. 

Unseen, Erestor's head snapped around at Glorfindel's pronouncement.

"It is time you began to learn the arts of war, young one," the seneschal smiled. "The use of the knife, the sword, the bow. How to sit a horse; the skills of the hunter and the tracker." Glorfindel's eyes met Erestor's in open challenge. He had seen glimmers of what he currently witnessed earlier, and held his gaze in an adamant display of dominance until Erestor's eyes lowered in submission, his shoulders slumping. The dark elf said nothing, though his heart pounded in his chest.

"Alright," Alagos said slowly, digesting this news. He was not inclined to be contrary or disobedient, ever, but there was surprise. This had never been considered.

"I will be teaching you personally," he said to his nephew. Estelwen silently sucked in her breath. As closely bonded as they were, even she would not presume on a privilege like this; it would be akin to asking Fëanor of old to teach a rank apprentice how to pound out iron to shape a nail.

Wide-eyed, Alagos sat stunned, but still responded. "Thank you, my Lord. I will give my best to please you."

"You honor us greatly, my Lord," she said humbly to her friend.

Glorfindel caught her gaze, some of the hardness leaving his eyes. "The honor is mine, Estelwen," he said. "But I must be clear. Your son will not be learning alone."

"As you wish it." Always, she had realized that perhaps she could do better...but her body, to her view, was something of an absurdity. So tiny for an elleth; no one in Imladris was lesser in stature at an age of maturity. How she could be useful in warfare was beyond her, and yet she already possessed one skill that exceeded the ability of many others. Nothing could escape the aim of her knife, but as she had already observed on so many occasions, once a knife was thrown her usefulness was at an end. If the seneschal felt she must learn more, then try she would. It might even be enjoyable; who was to say?

Lost to these considerations, she was unprepared for Erestor's sudden rising. "Please excuse me," he said, the barest hint of a quaver in his voice. "I have forgotten a matter that cannot wait." He all but fled from the table, disappearing quickly around a column and down the stairs that led to his sanctuary in the library.

Glorfindel openly glared at his retreating form. "I wish to know if you are available to come to my office after this meal, Estelwen?" he asked pointedly.

Caught badly off-guard by her husband's inexplicable behavior, she turned her attention back to the seneschal. "I am, my Lord." Suddenly, a sense of helplessness enfolded her. It did not take any notable mental acuity to assess that there were high odds of Glorfindel wishing to plumb what she knew of her mate's demeanor. And yet... "I will come to you just after I bring a plate to Erestor. He will need to eat, since clearly a matter of importance is keeping him from his meal."

The seneschal's eyebrow quirked; he clearly felt unhappy with this response. 

"Besides, where would I hide from you of all people, my Lord?" she offered placatingly, hoping to appease her occasionally temperamental lover.

This was true, and Glorfindel knew it. There had been times, long ago and early on, when Estelwen withheld her thoughts from him. But for centuries now, so many they had stopped counting, she had been true to him in more ways than one. It was not in her to deceive him, even for the sake of her mate. With a polite nod, he turned his attention to his meal, as did the others now that Elrond had arrived and the platters were brought.

Alagos ate his food whilst floating on a cloud of happiness, reeling at the prospect of being personally instructed at anything by his beloved Glorfindel. He would not tell his friends. No, this was too special. This was for him alone.


	3. Surmises

"Maidhion, did Master Erestor not return here?" Estelwen asked, frowning while she held the covered plate. Though there indeed was a room where meals might be consumed within the library, strict protocol still forbade leaving food unattended here for any reason. It was too easy for something to spill, go amiss, perhaps even attract an unwanted insect--or worse yet, a four-legged creature of the gnawing variety.

"No, Estelwen," he said deferentially. "I have been here the entire time, wishing to transcribe my notes from this morning's meeting before eating. I am almost done, but Master Erestor has not been here."

"Well then, I am left with two choices. I cannot leave the plate I brought for him here, so either you accept it for your own meal or I must return it to the kitchens. I am rather hoping that you can be persuaded to choose the former," she smiled wryly, knowing the extent to which the accommodating ellon tried to please the senior scholars.

A gleam of want appeared in the mild gray eyes. "I am very hungry," he admitted. "You are certain you do not mind?"

"Beyond," Estelwen confirmed, mostly annoyed with Erestor's evasiveness. "I will leave this in the rear room, trusting you to attend to it quite soon."

"Right now," Maidhion smiled. "The 'almost done' is only because the ink must yet dry."

"Perfect. And...if I may ask, how did this morning's pronouncement affect you? I was told in no uncertain terms by a rather determined seneschal that my sword must become as mighty as my quill," she mused. "Which will be most interesting for me. I hope the Lord has children's weapons at hand."

"I am certain you will do well," the ellon grinned. "I have seen you throw knives. With such skill at one discipline, you will gain at least some proficiency in the others."

"And you?" she pressed.

He shrugged. "I was trained long ago, having gone from the service of the High King to one of pursuing scholarship. I was found off-duty reading too many books, writing too many poems. My commanding officer would have none of it, and said that my talent was wasted on the pommel of a sword. Whether or not he was correct, I am grateful to have been given these opportunities. If the Lord Glorfindel requires me to train again, it is no matter. I will do my best, and hope I have not forgotten too much."

"That's the spirit," she said cheerfully. "And at least I now know, I can ask you for advice should I flounder."

"What of Master Erestor?" Maidhion asked, curious. "He was once of Lindon, it is said?"

Estelwen shrugged nonchalantly, coming only now to the unpleasant realization that in all their long years together, her mate's life in Lindon was rarely mentioned and the subject usually changed quickly. In fact the same could be said of anything having to do with Erestor's distant past. She did not wish to admit that what Erestor studied of the arts of warfare was totally unknown to her, beyond that they shared a formidable skill with throwing knives. "He must have learned to throw those knives somewhere," she replied breezily. "And, I hope you will forgive me, but I promised Lord Glorfindel I would meet with him right away after coming here. I must not tarry."

"Of course," Maidhion bowed, now moving toward the promised meal in the pleasant isolation of the empty library. Could anything be finer, than having this beautiful space all to himself for a time? It was most doubtful.

**

"Did he say why he left the Dining Hall?" Glorfindel asked somewhat brusquely on Estelwen's entrance, closing the door behind her.

Crossing her arms, she stared up at the blond who towered over her. "I believe it is customary to offer your guest a seat before the interrogation begins?" Her voice had only a slightly acidic edge. Having seen that some aspect of Erestor was the cause of Glorfindel's agitation, she had no desire to provoke him too far.

With only a slight huff, he pulled back a chair, lifted her gently by the waist, and set her down. He even poured a glass of water, and placed it in front of her. Seating himself in his own chair, he tried again. "Now will you answer my question, meldis?"

"Yes, I will, though you will not find solace in the answer. He never went to his office, so not only can I not tell what you wish, I do not know his whereabouts. Perhaps you will now answer one of my questions: What about my husband has suddenly vexed you so?"

"A hunch, if I am to be honest. I made Erestor's acquaintance earlier than you, Estelwen. I knew him in Lindon; that is where I first became aware of his rise to...well, favor, for lack of better words. I was told he came from nowhere in particular; a force within the scholarly community at Lindon, and soon had the regard of many, including the High King. Even though he was younger than most. Or at least I guess he was; come to think of it he has never told me his age. Always he managed to avoid a direct answer to that inquiry, even when asked."

With the briefest of frowns, Estelwen realized she also did not know Erestor's years. They were elves; when one did not perish except by grave injury or accident what did years matter, once one reached maturity?

Glorfindel's sharp eyes caught her fleeting expression, but he withheld comment. "I know that Erestor can throw knives as can you. And that he can sit a horse as well as I; even mounts many would deem difficult. And yet I have never been able to find any evidence that he has held a sword or shot an arrow. He has masterfully evaded every attempt I have ever made to discover how he learned the skills he does have, and surely you noticed his expressions of...shall we say, unhappiness?...at my edict that all must prepare themselves for war. Not to mention I would wager my next Yule gifts that my insistence on training Alagos was what drove him from the table." He leaned forward. "And you can provide me with no insight?"

Estelwen stared, dumbfounded. All of what he noted was true, though to be fair she herself had never asked Erestor such questions. Why should she? They were scholars, advisors. He needed to know how to hold a quill, not a sword; many could do the latter and quite few the former. "I cannot, melethron," she said very quietly. "I have never known these things either; for I have not thought to ask. It would no more occur to me to ask Erestor about his combat training than to ask you about your skill with the runes of Daeron."

"The what of who?" the golden warrior asked, before deciding he did not wish to know and waving his hand in annoyance. "Forget I asked. Your point is taken; we do not serve in the same roles. And perhaps I have been overreacting. You were not there, Estelwen," he sighed, looking at his diminutive friend. "Orcs, so many orcs. I would never have wavered even unto death, but I still know fear. I expected we would not survive," he said softly. "We were outnumbered, and there was little hope, save for a miracle. A miracle that came, in the form of the faithful of Númenor. And even then, the struggle..." he shook his head. "Many perished, elves and men, though the orcs paid most dearly of all. And our enemy escaped, slipping between our fingers." The words soured his usually comely mien. "I was too caught up in those memories, today. And perhaps a part of me became angered. We fought, hard, in that war. Yet Erestor was nowhere to be seen. He remained in Lindon. Only when the High King sent him here to the service of Elrond, did I see him again."

"And did you  _ ask _ him, why he did not fight?" Estelwen inquired, beginning to see what was eating at the warrior.

"He was commanded to remain in Lindon," Glorfindel frowned. "Gil-galad appointed him as steward, to manage affairs at home while the...rest of us went to war."

"And did you ask the king why he chose Erestor for this role?" she pressed.

Glorfindel shook his head No. "That would be too much presumption even for me," he said, dropping his head.

"So what I am really hearing is that you feel Erestor might be a coward?" Estelwen's voice held no accusation and was entirely level.

"Put that way, I now do not feel very good about having asked," Glorfindel said. "Estelwen, I am sorry. Please forgive me."

"No," she fired back, earning a look of complete astonishment. "What if you are correct?" Her head tilted at him. "Maybe you are, maybe you are not. But there is one observation you are leaving out of your reckoning, Glorfindel. Erestor is in pain. That much is obvious to me from what I saw today, but I wanted to give him at least a little time alone to sort out his feelings. I would like to think that after all we have been through together, that your concern would be to get to the root of his difficulty, rather than be able to simply brand him according to what you guess his motivations might be."

Rising, he came around the desk, and went down on one knee. "I made a mistake out of the abundance of my emotions, so I will ask you again: Please forgive me, Estelwen. You are right to have said all these things to me." He lowered his eyes. "I wish and do not wish you could understand, what war does to how an ellon thinks. But it does not change that I am still sorry."

"You know I do, Glorfindel," she answered, barely at a whisper. For though they were alone, discretion demanded it. "You are as good as my mate to whom I am not wed." Reaching out, her tiny hand smoothed his brow. "It would take far more than words spoken in the grip of an evil memory to turn me from you. I owe you much more, and I love you." Turning her head, she met his lips in a careful kiss, that elicited a whimper of emotion from the powerful ellon.

He shook his head, lightly snorting. "I can command soldiers by the hundreds, and yet there are times you command me," he smiled. "I value your insight and your even temperament, meldis. You have bested me, today."

"It was never a contest, beloved Lord. But there is something I would ask of you," she said, her hand holding onto his first two fingers, which were easiest for her to grasp. "Help me find Erestor, and talk to him?"

 


	4. Remembrance of Things Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for, this fic is rated mature and this chapter definitely has content of that nature...

 

Erestor walked from the Dining Hall, setting the fastest pace his long legs would allow. Dark robes swirling behind him, he had only one thought; to go somewhere no one would find him. The library was out of the question; anyone seeking him would look first there. The quarters he shared with Estelwen and Alagos would not do, for the same reason. If he moved on any of the paths leaving central Imladris, he would be observed. That meant...with a crooked smile, he turned aside to the family wing of the living quarters. In his pocket he bore a ring of keys, and one of those keys unlocked Glorfindel's door. 

Knocking loudly to ensure that no...anonymous guest...could be inside, he let himself in  and turned the mechanism to bolt it again. If his friend somehow came home unexpectedly, he would then have to explain himself. Right now, it seemed worth the risk, to have a place to release his feelings in privacy. Before seating himself on the couch, he took a moment to do one sensible thing; procure a small cleaning cloth from the seneschal's bathing room. He would need it, for his tears. Eyes wide in fear and sorrow, he looked unseeing across the room at the bed where countless nights of pleasure had unfolded. But those occasions were not what Erestor recalled. His vision filled with memories he had so desperately tried to forget, with no lasting success. There were times he managed to not remember for many years, but always something would be said or discussed, like today. And he would find himself in tatters all over again.

Nirnaeth Arnoediad, they had called it ever after. The Battle of Tears Uncountable. He would not speak its name, voluntarily. A violent sob tore through him, at the memory of Glorfindel's words at lunchtime. Glorfindel, who would put a sword into the hand of his only son--and his own. How could he possibly tell him, the great warrior who had conquered fear and was the bravest ellon he knew, that he could not hold one? "Adar..." he whispered, holding the sides of his head...

**

The attackers came to their small settlement out of the north; the screams of the elves living a few cottages away were their only warning. Orcs, everywhere. His mother blanched, dragging him outside of their dwelling immediately and forcing his slender frame into one of the covered pits used to decompose vegetable wastes and animal bedding. "Oh Erestor," she said, with unforgettable sorrow in her brown eyes. His eyes. "There is no time. With all my heart, I love you. Make no sound or motion, no matter what, or all will be in vain. Pray for us, son." With a press of her lips against his forehead, before he comprehended what was happening, his mother shoved him firmly downward and forked a great mass of soiled straw mixed with whatever stalks the chickens had not consumed over him. Turning, she slammed the lid of slats down over the mess and quickly moved away. 

He would never understand how he could see anything at all, but one thin slit remained open to his vision. Moments later he heard the thudding of arrows and the cry of an elleth's pain. The air left his lungs, but it was to become so much worse. His brother passed before his narrow view, screaming in terror, only for Erestor to see the orcs that must have been following right behind. More screams, a tiny elfling in mortal agony, and then cruel laughter. His father ran past, bearing a bright sword, but they overcame him and wrested the weapon from his hands. The sounds of slashing, hacking, and more screams filled his ears. 

Ready to vomit, he remembered his mother's last words and squeezed his eyes shut, barely able to breathe. Over and over in his mind he heard only her words. 'I love you. I love you. I love you.' This was his last memory as reason left him; day faded into night, his mind ignoring cold and thirst in favor of nothing at all. Three days after, a handful of scattered soldiers belonging to Doriath moved through the settlement. Theirs was a search for survivors and an attempt to give the bodies of their slain kindred some measure of dignity. They called out softly, the unmistakable voices of elves, and that was when Erestor heard. He erupted with tears of sorrow. Swiftly he was found and lifted from the stinking refuse that had saved his life. The ellon that brought him forth, being too hardened by battle himself, did not think to cover his eyes. Erestor's first gruesome sight was of his slain parents and his brother. A wail began to erupt from him and a large hand firmly clamped over his mouth; it was still far too dangerous to presume that no enemies lingered.

A second warrior came near, and shook him hard. "Stop it, now, or you will kill all of us. Did they die to save you? Then be grateful and repay them with your courage. Many were not so lucky. Do you understand me?" Terrified, Erestor nodded, tears streaming down his face.

"He is only a child," the first one admonished the other. "Show him some kindness, for he has lost everything. He is no older than my youngest brother."

"He had best learn now, there is no kindness in war," the second ellon replied bitterly. "Bring him. If we are all very lucky, we will live to see the gates of Menegroth." 

"Do not mind him," the one who held him said quietly. "He has endured great evil." His arms closed around Erestor, holding him close as he carried him. Later he was fed, given water. The soldiers had found blankets, with some extra food that had been hidden away. Their journey lasted months, traveling slowly and carefully back to the hidden realm of King Thingol.

**

Erestor never forgot the kindness of this ellon who watched over him, just as he could not now remember his name. Later, he wondered if he had deliberately forgotten because the pain of it was too great. He could still see his face; his pale hair and kind eyes. Where was he now? Only the Powers knew. "My parents," he whispered aloud, tears still streaming down his face. There had been so many times he wished he might have died with them, rather than face the rest of his youth alone. Perhaps he had been thirty? His parents were wonderful elves. Even though he had been years from marriageable age, his father would still enlighten him with educational 'talks' that he was sure were meant to see how often he could cause his son's cheeks to blush crimson. And his poor brother...he had loved him, but barely known him, so small was he at the age of his death. All that was an eternity ago.

His eyes swollen with crying, he continued to stare into nothingness, trying to force his mind to cope with present circumstances. It refused. "Alagos." The mere idea of his son fighting, perhaps perishing in the same way as had his parents and brother brought fresh waves of tears and panic. It had taken him so long, so very long, to gain any semblance of emotional healing. His time in Doriath remained a blur. He latched onto studies quickly enough, but made few friends. Drowning his mind in books offered an escape, but one day he overheard something that became an immediate obsession. It was two of King Thingol's soldiers, speaking in casual conversation. 

"Swords and bows are well enough," one opined to the other. "But there is only one way to drop another in absolute stealth and silence. The knife. The fighter that can throw is the fighter that will live when others fall."

"Heh well, that's your opinion, but I'm not so sure I agree. I'll keep my bow, thanks much.”

"Oh? How much good are your arrows if you are surprised? If you have all of a second in which to defend yourself? For that is how swiftly my knife can leave my belt. I will not argue that the mastery of knives takes skill and time, but while you are still moving your bow off your body, my enemy will be slain."

Erestor, wide-eyed, summoned his courage, impulsively approaching the ellyn. "Please teach me," he begged the knife-thrower. "I want to learn to throw knives."

The soldier appeared thoroughly amused; this youth was slight, not yet of age, but a look of hunger was in his eyes. He glanced back to his peer, a questioning expression on his face. His friend only shrugged. "It's your off-duty time, not mine."

The ellon returned his eyes to Erestor. "Alright. I will teach, you will pay close attention, do everything I tell you without arguing, and practice what you are shown. Follow directions and impress me; I will keep on with you. Waste my time, and that will be an end of it. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Erestor answered somewhat breathlessly.

**

Oh, he had practiced. Practices that often ended in tears, as he fell to his knees alone amongst the trees crying out to the branches overhead, wishing that he could have known how to do this all those years ago. Even as he knew it made no sense; he believed that somehow, he could have saved his family had he only known. The guilt and confusion were terrible, and he hid it all away. Learning and throwing, learning and throwing. They formed the hub around which his world revolved. Then the day came when Doriath fell. He had aged past fifty, but still had an appearance of one not fully grown, and Erestor exploited that to the fullest extent. He did not wish to be seen as having reached maturity; with it might come an expectation that he should bear arms. His only wish was to survive, and find peace.

While clinging to companionship with the elves fleeing to the Havens of Sirion, peace came for a time. Then the arrival of the sons of Fëanor sent him into hiding, once again fearing for his life. He would later learn that Elrond and Elros were here, only some decades younger than himself--and spared by Maedhros and Maglor. When Gil-galad arrived, Erestor emerged from where he had concealed himself. Terrified, he threw himself at the king's feet--and begged for his life. His damaged mind had refused to absorb political realities; he only knew that after the horror of seeing elf slaughter elf he might be facing the same fate. The Noldorin High King saw only a frightened youth that had somehow survived, and who could not speak coherently.  This too was a blur in Erestor's memory, save for one thing. Arms, raising him up, and a soft hand being laid on the crown of his head. The king, unknowingly Erestor's same age, took an interest in him, and changed the course of his life.

The next few years altered everything. Erestor gained some confidence, even as some other confidences were lost. For it was during this time, in which Erestor lived in the refugee settlement on the Isle of Balar, that his aptitude for letters and learning came to the attention of his monarch. He was assigned to live with an accomplished ellon who could instruct him, while allowing time for his mind to heal. It was in this place, that his first and only unfortunate sexual encounter with an elleth occurred, and that decided him on accepting a different position--in Gil-galad's library, already established in their new settlement at Lindon. Once all their people had relocated and settled in what remained of Ossiriand, the king was quick to...learn more. Erestor was invited to dine privately with the king, one evening. It was another encounter that he would never forget, and had never revealed.

Conversation had led to wine, wine to food, and food to more conversation. "Thank you for the kindness you have shown me, Lord," Erestor said with great sincerity to the beautiful ellon. "I am very grateful."

"You are welcome," Ereinion smiled. "Yet there are things I would know about you. For example, your age, Erestor. How old are you?"

Panic washed over Erestor. He did not wish to lie, but never had he been so afraid. Fascination played over the face of the king, to see the sudden transformation in his guest. "Please," Erestor said, slipping off of the comfortable couch to his knees. "Please do not punish me, for what I will answer."

Utterly confused, Ereinion did what anyone would do who still possessed a heart. He approached Erestor, and drew the slender frame against his own, holding him. For Erestor was uncommonly beautiful, and it wrenched the heart to see his sudden pain. "I am not going to do any such thing, Erestor. Why would I punish you for learning your age?"

"Because I am one hundred and forty," he answered miserably, ashamed. "I was old enough to try to fight, when the sons of Fëanor came. Instead I hid, and did nothing."

"You are the same age as I," the king said, incredulous. "But Erestor, I remember my first sight of you. You may have exceeded fifty years, but you were not full-grown. Surely you know that not all of our people reach maturity by that age?"

Erestor looked down, his lips trembling. Had he known? Maybe? So many things had washed past his mind, and heavy tears fell. Undone by the sight, the king hardly knew what was happening to him, as he leaned down to softly kiss those lips in reassurance. The first kiss was given in love, and genuine sympathy. The second was something different, for at the first touch of the king's mouth Erestor's lips parted without hesitation. Seeing that he was more than welcomed, Ereinion kissed again, deeper, his tongue gently exploring the sweetness of the perfect mouth. He was answered with soft moans of want. A hand traced down, carefully, to feel a very large arousal. Surprised and even more intrigued, the whispered question came. "Do you consent, fair one? Do you want this?"

"Yes, Lord," the dark beauty answered, yearning for affection. Any affection. "But...I am inexperienced."

"Then I will be gentle when I take you, for I do not prefer to be taken."

Ereinion kept his word, preparing Erestor slowly with oil, carefully stretching, noting the gasps of pleasure--and some of pain. He could not prevent all of the discomfort of being loved in this way for the first time, but Erestor did not complain, and willingly submitted. Finally the king was buried deep inside of his body, whereon he studied the parted lips and flushed cheeks of the one beneath him. "Are you well, Erestor?" the king asked, a little worried. "Do you wish me to stop?"

The brown eyes that raised to his held some fear and confusion, but also trust. "I consent, Lord. This is...I have never done this before. It is new."

"Do you prefer ellith?" Gil-galad asked carefully, keeping opinion from his voice. He saw Erestor's eyes flare with pain.

"I do not know. Maybe? I...there was only one encounter," Erestor stammered. "It ended very badly. Lord, surely you can see...me. I...think I do want an elleth. Their bodies...firm breasts, the taste of their secret places... but...how can I?" The ivory cheeks flushed, as he turned his head aside in shame.

Filled with pity, the king leaned in to kiss his face tenderly. "Yes, I can see you, beautiful one. Your body please me greatly, but a female...I can guess that with such endowment it will not be easy for you, Erestor. Do not think less of yourself. There will be times you have need, and there is nothing wrong with seeking out one of your own sex. There is pleasure, either way."

Nodding was all Erestor could manage, as he tried to digest the king's counsel. It did not erase the shame of his past humiliation or the sense of rejection, but he was not being rejected now. Indeed, his lord groaned with enjoyment, to push a little deeper inside of him. Having allowed some time to adjust, Ereinion began now to move slowly. Erestor...reeled, to feel the thick shaft move inside of him. This was not like his first experience of sex. While he did not have the same feelings for the king as he believed he held for the young elleth he had courted, there was kindness, caring and trust. And warm skin against skin, and the surrender of offering himself to one he sensed would not misuse him. 

Steady, firm thrusts darted pleasure from somewhere inside, while the king's belly teased his leaking shaft. The sensations were brand new, carrying Erestor elsewhere. He did not resist, when guiding hands brought his legs up to enfold his lover's back. "What happened to you, beauty? Why did you fear I would order you punished for saving yourself? Why were you so young, and alone?"

Tears sprang to Erestor's eyes, even as pleasure surged through him from the gentle strokes. The king, knowing that a question from him was as good as a command, waited for the answer, reaching to caress the impressive erection that lay between them. "Please..." Erestor begged again. "I cannot speak of it."

"Yes, you can," Ereinion said, with just a hint of dominance. He thrust deep inside, earning a gasp of want from the one underneath him. "And you will. I will have it out of you, but with a promise. Whatever you fear, Erestor, I will help you. Protect you. Do not make me command it of you. Not now."

"I-I will obey you, Lord." Erestor's voice shook. "But might I have this first? Please?"

"You ask so nicely," the king acceded, smiling, claiming the rosy lips. "Yes, this first."

**

Afterward, Erestor bared his soul, resting in the arms of the one who had claimed his first experience of this kind. Ereinion held Erestor tightly against his chest, petting his ebony hair, listening. He could choose to have contempt, for Erestor had suffered no more than many, and less than some. But Erestor was not many, or some. His was obviously a great mind, housed with a spirit more fragile than most. As High King it would be his decision to guard and nurture that frailty, or make forcible demands and shatter it beyond repair. For clearly, it was near to breaking. When his tale was near-finished, the king renewed his kisses. "Let me understand," he murmured, between indulgences in those sweet lips. "Battle holds abject terror, for you," he said softly, now stroking the prodigious member that was returning to arousal. "But you have done nothing for the last hundred-odd years but practice throwing knives?"

"Yes, sire," Erestor groaned, feeling the first touch of the king's mouth on his hardness. "Oh, my Lord..."

The hot mouth licked and teased, and the dark elf surrendered to the king's gentle hands. Soon Ereinion was buried deep inside of Erestor for a second time, seeking release. His tongue twined fiercely with Erestor's; the lithe and agile body writhed underneath him. The king smiled with a genuine sense of joy, to find such a responsive and willing partner. More kisses were placed on the white throat, inflaming the king past all return. He now gripped Erestor tightly with his arms, pumping furiously inside of him, egged on by the cries of enjoyment. "Touch yourself," the King commanded, spurred by the sight of those delicate fingers working the large manhood. Erestor's breaths came in hitches and gasps. "Come for me," the King ordered, inordinately pleased to see the chocolate eyes raise to his, and the streams of semen burst from his partner. One other thing was said, before the king reached his own bliss and filled the dark ellon a second time with his release. "Erestor...so exquisite."

**

Erestor was cleaned of every drop by a generous tongue that lavished attention on his pale skin. In his innocence, he was unaware that he had gratified his Lord more than any other lover had previously managed. Once he had taken the last of his enjoyment in kisses and soft caresses, Ereinion dressed, helping his guest do the same--smiling a little at Erestor's discovery of his soreness. "Use this, in the privacy of your room," the king admonished, handing him a small container of ointment. "It will help."

"You are very kind, sire," Erestor murmured, now feeling a measure of sincere disbelief that he had just had intimate relations with his King. And wondering a little, what would next be asked of him.

Guessing some of what must be passing in Erestor's mind, he drew the ellon back into his arms. He had weighed many things in a short time, and reached his own decision. "I think you know, Erestor, that I cannot have a lover openly. I will not ask you to return to my bed. This was rare, for me, and you will leave here understanding my gratitude. You gave something priceless tonight, something I will cherish, nor will it be forgotten. Not because you consented to letting me satisfy my lust within you, but for your innocent trust. I can see that you are different, immeasurably talented. You will continue your studies, and soon enough I will appoint you as one of my junior advisors. What you have spoken to me here tonight will be held in confidence. I will keep you from the horrors of war, while it is in my power to do so. Heal, Erestor. Gain strength. Eru knows what the future will bring. Do not be ashamed, that your spirit cannot endure the workings of evil. But know too that we are elves, and that if terror and death find us we go to the loving arms of Námo." He placed a kiss of blessing on Erestor's brow.

"Thank you, my King," Erestor said, tears flowing anew.

"Ai, none of that, my gentle friend. I may not be able to indulge myself to keep you as a lover, but I will very much keep you near. Go, now. Rest with my goodwill upon you, and the recollection of what I hope was a pleasant  evening."

Erestor knelt, taking Gil-galad's hand in his own, reverently pressing his cheek against the open palm. No, this was not the love he dreamed of having, in the most desperate reaches of his heart. But it was love of a kind, and light. He had given himself freely, and received a gift unlooked-for. "I am ever your willing servant, Lord," he had whispered, as he bowed deeply and retreated. 

True to his word, Gil-galad never again did ask Erestor for his favors. But he could have, and they would have been granted without hesitation.

**

Erestor smiled weakly at these long-buried memories, coming now to some awareness of his actual surroundings. Glorfindel's room.  _ I should probably leave, how long have I been here? _ he wondered. With a heavy sigh he blotted at his tear-stained cheeks, rising to pour a little cool water by which to dampen the cloth. _ I have not healed. And I am uncertain I have ever gained strength. The king has kept his word all this long time. Is it fair, or right, to expect this will go on forever? Oh, Erestor, what will you do now? _


	5. The Door Opens, and the Doors Open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After some further reflection, I decided to include notes about the "big picture" because...these are moments in elven history that will be obscure even to learned readers and probably hopelessly arcane for those who are newer to the legendarium. So...what's happening here?  
> Erestor has admitted to his lovers that he barely escaped with his life through two deadly periods in the history of Beleriand. First, when his family was slaughtered during the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. This was the disastrous assault by the Union of Maedhros (the sons of Fëanor--the Noldor, and those from some of the other elven realms like Doriath, Nargothrond and Gondolin, plus men who were allies) against Morgoth and his creatures. What matters to this story is that in the aftermath of this battle, in which the elves and men saw terrible losses, orcs systematically razed pretty much all of Beleriand except the realm of Doriath under King Thingol. So, elves living in a small, isolated settlement would have been helpless against this onslaught. The Nirnaeth caused the death of High King Fingon, passing the high kingship over the Noldorin elves to his son Ereinion, known more affectionately as Gil-galad. Gil-galad was barely at maturity when he inherited this responsibility, and he made his first base of operations on an island called Balar, near the mouth of the Sirion river. This is also where there was an elven settlement of survivors of the assorted realms (Gondolin being one) that Morgoth had already defeated. And, where in the hopeless pursuit of the Silmarils, Erestor nearly lost his life a second time. Maedhros and Maglor (at this point the only survivors of the Oath of Fëanor) attacked the elven refuge when their demands for the surrender of the silmaril held by Elrond's mother Elwing was refused; Gil-galad learned too late of what had happened to intervene. Afterward, war and the destruction of Beleriand itself (it sank beneath the ocean!) caused Gil-galad to go east, to Lindon. Lindon is all that was left of Beleriand when the First Age ended, and it was from there that the high king ruled. However Sauron was not destroyed in the First Age, and had quite an axe to grind. He showed up at Lindon, calling himself 'Annatar' and offering his friendly services. Gil-galad was smart enough to send him packing, but not so the elves that had settled in Eregion--on the west side of Moria, where they became friends and allies of the Dwarves that delved those halls. Basically around SA 1693, just before the story "There is Always Hope" commences, the elves went to war against Sauron and almost lost (the men of Númenor saved their bacon) but Sauron escaped, and fled. He went to Númenor and stirred the cesspool until a whole lot of bad things happened and the Valar destroyed the island, returning Sauron to Mordor and men to what would become Gondor and Arnor, respectively. Arnor was ruled by Elendil, Minas Ithil by Isildur, and Minas Anor (later Minas Tirith) by Anárion (Elendil's two sons). But Sauron never stays quiet forever...which is where we are about now. Everything having to do with Erestor and Estelwen is my fiction; next to nothing is known about Erestor's history as a canon character. With Glorfindel, while none of his participation in these wars is specified because we do not know the exact date of his return to Middle Earth, neither is it out of the bounds of what JRRT left us.

Erestor unlocked the mechanism, key in hand, prepared to slip out into the hallway and swiftly vanish. Unfortunately, he pulled the door open to see the rather upset owner of the rooms standing next to his wife.

"Back inside," Glorfindel pointed, steely-eyed, laying a heavy hand on one shoulder.

"I am sorry, Glorfindel." He did not need to ask to know that his friend was beyond displeased to find him here. Erestor glanced nervously down at his mate, whose expression was somewhat unreadable.

"Be quiet," Estelwen demanded, but without anger in her tone. "Sit." The lock was turned once again, with an ominous 'click.'

Erestor was on the verge of losing what very tenuous hold remained over his ragged feelings. Tears pooled in his eyes as he did his best to blink them back, but sit he did. His lips parted, when he remembered he had been admonished to quiet, and the tears spilled over. Unexpectedly, Glorfindel sat first, and pulled Erestor onto his lap at the same time Estelwen climbed to sit on both of them, wrapping her small arms around him. Embraced from all sides by those who loved him most, he gave way to uncontrolled weeping. "I am sorry," he sobbed. 

"Stop being sorry and tell us what is wrong, Erestor," his wife pressed gently. "For I know something is. Wrong. Start at the beginning."

"You do not know what you are asking, Estelwen," he answered, trembling.

"I think I do," she countered, grasping at his chin and forcing him to look at her. "I want to know why I do not know your age. Why I do not know the names of your parents and why you never speak of them, or if you have other family. Why neither Glorfindel or I know barely anything about your past, other than that you emerged from Lindon as a gifted scholar of renown, high in the favor of both Lord Elrond and our king."

"As do I, Erestor." Glorfindel's baritone rumbled from his chest.

A groan of pain tore through the slender frame; Erestor knew his long years of keeping these secrets had reached an end. Yet the arms around his body supported him, provided strength. "I feel I have little choice," he whispered, shaking miserably against the torment of the memories.

After a moment's hesitation, Glorfindel spoke at last. "I will help you, if you will agree to confide in us. I can see that you are deeply troubled."

His breath still coming in hitches, Erestor nodded, feeling as though he could not speak or form words in the depths of his agitation. Then warmth and calm suffused him, precious relief that lifted the weight that seemed to crush his chest.

**

Erestor rested his head against Glorfindel's broad shoulder. He related everything, sparing nothing. 

"Why did you never tell me this? Any of this?" the golden Lord asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Erestor..."

"Can you not see I am ashamed?" Erestor whispered, his voice shaking with grief. "Do you think I do not know that others lost parents, siblings, their entire families? Suffered untold brutalities and torments? What right do I have to speak of this to you, who endured pain and death, and still have returned to fight bravely?" His chin quavered. "I do not want to be a coward, Glorfindel. And yet I fear it is very much what I am. I cannot even pick up a weapon without seeing my father hacked to pieces, or falling apart..."

"I will not believe this of you, Erestor. Our king saw with greater wisdom than you; your perceptions are clouded, and there is much you do not know. I am a warrior, and have seen this happen before. You need help; help you have never received. Melethron, I must do what Gil-galad did not. I refuse to protect you without also aiding you to overcome this. I will not leave your mind all but defenseless against the realities of this world, as it is now."

"Help?" Erestor asked, his voice full of fear. "How?"

"If I have your trust, leave that to me. Though I tell you now, it will involve Elrond. With your consent or not, I will speak to him about this."

"But Glorfindel, there is nothing wrong with my body," Erestor protested. "What can he possibly do, except seriously question his choice of a chief advisor?"

"Erestor!" Estelwen said in sharp rebuke. "Glorfindel is indeed correct. Your mind is a part of you, husband, and yours has been injured. Damaged. You are displaying beliefs that cannot aid you. I know what it is to struggle with something bad that has happened, but not like you. Not like this. Listen to him, he loves you. He loves both of us. Do you really think Glorfindel would seek to lead you astray?"

"I am sorry," he repeated again miserably. "I have kept this hidden for so very long. I had made myself forget, completely. And today..."

"Today made you remember," Estelwen added gently.

The dark head nodded, bowing, though he leaned into Estelwen's caresses of his cheeks.

"I cannot believe you loved the High King, and never said a word," she teased. "And here I thought Glorfindel had discretion."

Erestor looked up, embarrassed, but he too could see the humor. "It was not something I would ever have willingly revealed. And for the love of all the Valar, Glorfindel, please do not tell Elrond. I will beg if I must. That was told to you both in deepest confidence," he whispered. "The king was kind to me. Caring, as you yourself were when I came to you once in great distress. I have never regretted the choice to offer myself him. I would do it again without hesitation, were it not for my vows to Estelwen."

She shook her head. "I would not require that, Erestor. We have ever...kept to one another, as we promised, and our lovers. It has been a freedom, and a blessing, and I am grateful to have found in you a husband with a generous heart who did not seek to keep me as a hoarded possession. I know about this now, and if you were to wish this, you have my blessing. You did not ask me to forsake Glorfindel or Haldir; I cannot find it in me to be any different."

"It is rather a moot point, is it not, as Gil-galad is hundreds of leagues distant?" Glorfindel noted acerbically. 

"Probably," admitted Erestor. "And for other reasons too. There was only ever the one occasion, and that was at my Lord's choosing. But I still thank you, wife, for your words."

"I admit to feeling a little jealous," Glorfindel said, amused at his own emotions, still holding Erestor tightly.

"You?" Estelwen fired back. "But...you take other lovers. That is...what you do, is it not?"

"In theory," Glorfindel sighed, smiling. "But in truth, I have had none but the two of you, given that we have not seen Haldir in a very long while."

"Really?" Erestor said, genuinely surprised. And flattered.

"Really. And perhaps I should not have said it. I did not intend this. It just sort of...happened."

Estelwen raised her head. "Is there a reason, Glorfindel? A reason you never would pair off with a mate?" Some questions had gone unasked, and this was one of them. And yet apparently this conversation was one in which they were baring themselves to each other.

"There is, but all I am prepared to say at this moment is that the answer to your question does not lie so far off from Erestor's own struggle."

Her head tilted charmingly, as it often did at times when she was considering new information. Believing that he meant that his choice was rooted in a fear of loss or severance, her lips parted. This sobered her, greatly. All this long time, there had always existed an underlying assumption that his ways had their origins in a desire to love freely. A certain...promiscuity. Now she perceived, it was quite the opposite. What he did not possess, he could not lose. And this did not consider whatever else Glorfindel was; he made it easy to forget that he was far from ordinary. Her eyes met his in understanding, and deepened regard. 

"I love you, my Lords. Both of you have my heart."

"We know, Estelwen," Glorfindel replied, enfolding both of them in his mighty embrace. "And I especially am grateful to you."

"I have to disagree, friend," Erestor murmured even as he clung to the giant frame that held him so securely. "No other female has ever loved me."

"Are you so sure you are alone, in that, Erestor?" Blue eyes blazed in mild challenge.

"But...I have seen those who have sought your company," the dark elf said, confused and sensing the repudiation. "Many have desired you, Lord."

"Desired the  _ idea  _ of me, Erestor. Do you know how I first knew, that Estelwen loved me more than I wished to believe?"

A pause ensued, while Erestor battled his scattered thoughts. Declaring a loss, he shook his head No. "I will not waste your time with my guesses," he said humbly.

The arms closed around him more tightly, as Glorfindel bent to kiss the dark head in love and blessing. "She saw me as I  _ was _ , not as she wished me to be for her. Estelwen respected me as an individual, more than she desired my attentions. She willingly let me go, knowing my stated wishes, rather than trying to cling to what she had been told could not be. The same as did you, she accepted what I offered, never presuming to ask for more. No other elleth has ever done the same. And that is why she has me, just as surely as she has you."

"Was it that bad?" Estelwen asked, now hurt to think that she alone could have granted this deserving star something so basic. And yet to discount his words would be disingenuous. Well she recalled the struggle, the first time her golden friend left her in Lórien. The strength needed to master her want, and to make no show of tears or clinging when it was time for him to return home had taken much of her strength. "I am sorry, Glorfindel. You deserve so much more. You deserve everything anyone could give, for you give no less in return." Instinctively her hand reached, childlike, to wrap his silken hair around her fingers.

"Each person has wants and needs and desires, Estelwen. And yet few, when presented with a free gift of love, can simply take what is offered and ask no more. Erestor did this, with Ereinion, and is too pure and innocent to understand the rarity of his behavior. He simply took the king at his word, and sought no further, though it is obvious that he would have liked more. Am I correct, melethron?" Glorfindel asked.

Erestor nodded slowly. "I would have given him anything he asked of me, without reservation. Of course I wanted more. He was gentle, considerate, and did not think only of his own pleasure. And that he was so kind to me concerning my...problems. He was not a lover I yearned for so much as..."

A finger gently laid on his lips. "You do not need to explain, Erestor. I desired him too--not because I could not have others, but out of a compulsion to give to him in any way I could. He is filled with greatness. And yet I never had this pleasure, as did you."

"You too are great," Erestor whispered. "I usually do not say it, Glorfindel, and I will speak only this once. We are aware that you are more than we are, though you try so hard to hide it. We revere you, but will never treat you as other than you have shown us you wish. You are much loved as family, but in our hearts we kneel before you."

Estelwen looked away, but nodded. She had to, for her husband was fully correct. It was  _ not _ said. And that did not make it any less true.

The Elflord squeezed his eyes shut, and for the first time since either had met him, he cried. The first wave of emotion broke as a hoarse sob. "Glorfindel?" Estelwen asked, tenderly, as her tiny hand reached to cup the side of his jaw.

"It is time you knew. You have earned the right."

 


	6. Round and Round

"I am not so great as you believe I am," Glorfindel spoke bitterly. "The Valar showed me mercy, for what they saw as my good deeds. But I was not alone. There were others as deserving as I. And thus I cannot accept that I am somehow inherently more worthwhile."

  
"But melethron, even I can tell you the reason for that," Erestor said, shifting a little in his friend's embrace.

  
"How?" the golden ellon asked skeptically.

  
"Simple," Erestor answered. "They asked and you agreed. You are a mighty warrior, Glorfindel, but that is not whence your greatness comes. It is what you already said, about us. Your willingness. You sacrificed your life to save the lives of others. That matters, whether or not you wish to believe it. I, who only know how to run and hide, would not make any such effort."

  
"Yes, you would," the blond ellon argued.

  
"Would not," Erestor denied.

  
"Would too, for one you loved more than yourself. Would you not do anything to save Estelwen? Alagos? You will be a liar if you deny this."

  
Erestor's face was stricken. "P-please can you not understand, this is my deepest fear?" Tears came again. "For I do not know that in my heart, Glorfindel. I cannot say, and how do you think that makes me feel? That I might fail my own flesh and blood? I failed my parents, my precious little brother! What makes you think this could be any different?"

  
Forcibly, Estelwen interrupted. "We will help you, Erestor. I promise you. This is no longer your burden to bear alone. Can we stop talking about this, for a time? You have wept all day and....I do not want this for you."

  
"She is right," Glorfindel admitted. "We will revisit this, but not just now. I am sorry, Erestor." Kisses were placed on the side of his head, his cheeks covered lavishly.

  
Estelwen shifted on his lap, to place the same at his throat. "Bother your formal robes, my Lord Erestor," she told her mate, ignoring Glorfindel's snort of humor.

  
Erestor said nothing, but ghosted his fingers up the front of the seneschal's tunic, brushing the pads of his fingers against the exposed skin at his collarbone.

  
"We should not dally at lovemaking, given the hour," Glorfindel rumbled. "But already I burn for you."

  
Practiced ease led to the disrobing, and they did what came easiest. Erestor knelt on the bed, offering himself to his wife, who happily attended him while Glorfindel slicked himself with oil. In a moment he was inside Estelwen, thrusting languidly. Their physical discrepancy allowed this to be an extended tease for both of them, while Erestor was brought to full arousal by his wife's ministrations. Sooner or later, they would trade off; Estelwen would lie back at the edge of the bed to accept Erestor. Glorfindel would take him in turn, driving all of them to climax. It took very little time.

  
Just moments later the three panted and glistened, dewy from perspiration and the gratification of release. "Thank you," Glorfindel said meaningfully. "I needed that...you have allowed all the rest of my day to be far better."  
"Me too," Estelwen smiled, with a little groan. "Taking instruction from you will not always be easy for me, Glorfindel, for from time to time I will think of this." She kissed him full on the mouth, lingering over the taste of him. "I have a few standards left, and one of them is that my son be quite old before ever he learns of what his parents and the golden Lord get up to."

  
"He will never know, for no one else does," Glorfindel smiled, as he slowly withdrew from Erestor's tight body and peppered kisses on his shoulder.

  
"Oh. Never say that word, melethron," Erestor said, shaking head.

  
"Melethron?" Glorfindel asked, puzzled.

  
"Never," Estelwen corrected, laughing at the blond, hugging his waist and nuzzling his taut abdomen, giving a final caress to the soft sacs that hung in her easy reach. She could not help it, testicles fascinated her. So sleek, so delicate....and so appealing.

  
"Point taken," Glorfindel shrugged. And with a gentler tone, "Tomorrow we will see Elrond, Erestor. Together." He looked at Estelwen meaningfully, his eyes asking for support.

  
"Yes," she concurred. "I will remain on duty in the library; we have probably caused enough of a stir by being absent so much of this afternoon. You two go; trust I will help in whatever way I can should it be needed."

  
With a bowed head, Erestor came to Glorfindel. "I will need your help," he pleaded. "This..."

  
"I will be with you, Erestor. To whatever extent is needed," he promised. They all knew that Elrond...knew, though it had never been discussed. One simply did not have a relationship of this nature under the nose of their Lord, and expect it to remain any kind of secret. From him, anyway.

  
"Alright," Erestor acquiesced, knowing he had no real choice. "How awful do I look?" He asked Estelwen, knowing that so much weeping would need a little time to remove its appearance from his eyes.

  
"Not at all," Glorfindel smiled. "For I have already started helping."

  
With great emotion, Erestor reverently kissed his golden friend on the lips, then the back of his hand. With their traditional gesture of parting, he backed toward the door, offering Estelwen his arm.

  
**

  
"However coerced this is, it took courage to come here, Erestor. You do not lack it. Ever have I seen the trueness of your heart." Elrond rose from his chair, to move to a different seat, one closer to the two ellyn and not with his desk in between them. He could see his counselor's visible trembling, and moved to take his hand. Glorfindel sat still, a large and comforting arm draped over his shoulder. Their conversation was private, hidden behind screens through which no passer-by could view.

  
The Lord of Imladris pulled his chair closer. "Among healers it is called ‘resilience,’" he explained gently. "Much has been written about this, for reasons that are sadly obvious. You are far from alone, Erestor. Our people survived when they could, and for some it became a point of false pride or bravado to pretend that what they had seen and done in war left them unaffected.

  
"From what you and Glorfindel have explained to me, you endured much, though perhaps less than others. You were only an elfling when your family was killed. That you witnessed this personally, at such a young age...that is a great damage unto itself. You traveled with those who guarded you through many dangers, and came safe to Thingol's kingdom. But by then, my friend, you were alone. No one loved you, guided you, truly cared for you or gave you nurture. For all Elros and I too endured in these conflicts, we knew the love of Maglor and Maedhros. It was a strange love, but a true one, and it did much to salvage our spirits.

  
"Doriath fell, and you had to flee a second time, only to find yourself under terror from the same ones who showed me mercy," he said, his eyes filled with heartbreak to speak the words. For a few moments, Elrond turned away. "I too enjoyed some closeness with my Lord Gil-galad," Elrond said evenly, nothing in his voice hinting at whether his words held an intimate overtone or not. "He told me something once, about you, Erestor. He said that one of the defining moments of his rule was the day you came to him at Sirion, pleading for your life. That it tore his heart asunder, to know that an elf who seemed no more than a child could fear such as this, when all around them the ruination Morgoth wrought on our people should have been the worst they had experienced. He determined that day that his rule would stand for something. Freedom from such oppression of the spirit, if he would be granted any power to aid its cause."

  
Erestor looked up, stunned, chin trembling. "He said that? About me?"

  
"Yes, though he viewed your distress as a symbol of a greater ill. Either way, you gave our king purpose, my friend. But none of this aids you. That will require something different. There are techniques, by which to help you gain what you do not now have; some ability to weather your greatest stressors."

  
"Whatever you ask of me, I will try," Erestor said. "I do not want to be like this. I do not want Alagos to be like this. He came home last night, talking of nothing but the lessons you will give him, Glorfindel. It was very hard for me, but I did everything I could to behave as though I were excited for him when the truth is that I am terrified."

  
"No, it has to be different from that," Elrond said. "Erestor, you too will train only with Glorfindel. Privately, on account of your struggles. For he is correct; we cannot be facing uncertain times and fail to try to help you. It is unfair to you, and frankly the idea of anyone whether elleth, ellon or elfling going untrained is not something I can accept. I have a plan to explain to Glorfindel certain healing principles. You will, for the first many weeks, take medicine I will give you to dampen your ability to become anxious a half-hour before your instruction commences."

  
"Drugged? But..." Erestor said, shocked. "I will be uncoordinated. Unable to..."

  
"Unable to become terrified," Glorfindel said gently. "All we ask is that you give this a chance. Three weeks. If Elrond is not seeing the results for which he hopes, we will try something else."

  
"How will I return to my duties, thus affected?" the dark elf asked.

  
Elrond smiled. He was hearing actual questions, and not the protests and wholesale resistance he initially feared. "Your lessons are scheduled to take place late in the afternoon; there will be no returning to duties afterward. I have arranged that meals will be served in your private rooms. I am aware that you all dine together one night a week, and will leave you to your devices on that occasion. In the mornings, after breakfast, three times each week, you will come to me here, Erestor. It will appear to all others as though we are consulting about the usual operation of Imladris, but the real purpose will be to discuss your feelings. Whatever happened the previous afternoon; your memories, your comfort level and anything else that may come to mind. Are there any questions?"

  
"No, Lord Elrond," Erestor replied quietly, not meeting his eyes.

  
At any other time, Elrond might have protested the formality with which his counselor was addressing him, but Glorfindel had discovered something; Erestor possessed a deeply hidden submissive facet to his personality. In his opinion, it would be badly needed, to see him through to the other side of this difficulty. He had warned his Lord in advance to simply...run with it.

  
"Very well, then, you are free to go. For now. Your first lesson is later today; here is the first dose of your medication. Dissolve the powder in water, and consume it. By the noon meal, a week's supply will have been prepared for you. Remember, a half-hour before," he reminded.

  
Erestor accepted the packet, and reached to clasp Glorfindel's hand, that still rested on his shoulder. With a squeeze and a half-smile, he rose and left for his office, and the stack of documents that waited.


	7. Getting a Grip

Erestor reported to Glorfindel's office, attired as had been requested of him; leggings and a loose-fitting tunic hid under his heavy robes of office. "Follow me," the seneschal told him, feeling a stab of guilt at the sight of his friend. Glassy-eyed, struggling for coordination; and yet the warrior reminded himself that this was absolutely necessary.

Finally they reached a private, walled-in space whose most arresting feature was a circle inscribed on the smooth stone surface. Contrasting this were the geometric forms expressed inside the circumference; myriad inscriptions of overlaid squares and triangles, until the vision beheld had more in common with the rays of a flower than anything else. Had Erestor possessed any military training whatsoever, he would have recognized this as the geometry of a sword-training ring. It was just as well that he did not.

Wooden posts graced the perimeter of the walls at regular intervals, and embedded in the stone rested a wooden mount designed to hold a circular straw target. A narrow table not so far from the entrance to this little courtyard held assorted weapons; knives, swords and an unstrung bow. Haphazardly, a quiver of arrows leaned up at a rakish angle.

Despite the medication Erestor shook with trepidation, though he tried to control it. He felt Glorfindel's hands undoing the clasps of his robe with gentle movements, then its removal. His gaze was directed downward, for his embarrassment at his present circumstances was extensive--afraid, barely in control of his mind or body, and suffused with a sense of helplessness.

"We are alone," Glorfindel promised. "There is no one to see, or hear, anywhere near."

"How can you be sure?" Erestor whispered, though even speaking seemed to be an effort, swallowing hard.

His teacher brought a flask of water to his lips. Elrond had warned him, the medication would cause Erestor to feel very dehydrated, and that he would need to drink a great deal of water or tea not to feel a torment of thirst. "Because all of those under me know that should any of them disturb me at this time for lesser reason than the advent of a dragon intent on making its way up the valley floor, they will earn a year of double patrols. That is how."

Even Erestor had to laugh at this absurd measure that he did not doubt was true--but it had the desired effect. His shoulders relaxed, and some of the tension left his body. His friend was making a great effort to help him, and a smile of appreciation formed on the perfect mouth. Finally he raised his eyes. "What do I do?"

"Come with me, and look at the weapons on the table. Only look." An arm came around his shoulders. "I want you to tell me how you feel, seeing them."

Another swallow. "I...I would not mind picking up the knives," he explained. "But the sight of the swords brings a knot into my belly, because I believe you will want me to pick one up. Hold it, use it. I feel fear, and the memory of my parents' dead bodies. The bow is more neutral. I still do not want to touch it, but I feel less afraid at the sight of it."

"That is very good, that you could tell me this," Glorfindel praised, offering him more water, and kissing his brow when he finished his drink. He had determined to follow Elrond's admonitions very carefully, especially for the first week. To the letter. He must keep control of all that Erestor experienced, praising him for opening up and sharing, and moving very slowly to ease him into a different mental experience when it came to the objects of warfare.

"I suppose you want me to touch them," Erestor said, bracing himself for what he was sure was the inevitable request.

"No. Next I am going to demonstrate some body positions, motions you will learn."

"No?" Erestor echoed, baffled, but he allowed himself to be turned and led to the circle.

"The lines here are meant to help you understand how the placement of the body will describe the movements of handling a sword," Glorfindel instructed. "Pay attention to where I place my feet, for you will do the same--commeasurate with your own stature." He demonstrated a graceful motion that lunged forward and dipped his body low, while keeping his arm elevated at a precise angle.  Then, he returned to his starting position. "That is what I wish you to imitate."

His first attempt, Erestor stumbled badly on account of the medication. "Try again," the seneschal encouraged. "I will support you. It is more important that you be relaxed, than that you achieve perfection."

The second attempt was better than the first, and for the third, Erestor's body flexed with a dancer's grace.

"Excellent," the blond praised, surprise and pleasure tinging his voice. That his friend might possibly have a natural aptitude for this was completely unexpected. "Now reverse your movement; lead with your other leg. I still have you."

The flowing step felt freeing to the dark elf as he repeated the motions in an easy rhythm; his clouded mind perceived the movement as falling and floating. He dipped and rose as the resonant voice of his instructor told him to, disconnected from all thought. Soon more expressions of praise followed, along with rewards of water and kisses.

"I thought I would hate this," Erestor admitted, his balance still somewhat affected. "But I like it. This feels...good. Am I doing very badly?"

"You are doing very well, Erestor. I did not know you had such innate grace."

A delicate hand held onto Glorfindel to steady himself, and a wry grin appeared. "The ellon who instructed me to throw knives gave a similar compliment once," the uninhibited counselor admitted. "I thought he was merely trying to be flattering. I wondered at the time, if he wanted me as something more than a pupil." His cheeks blushed pink. "At that time of my youth I had not yet come into having sexual desires."

"I could not have faulted him," Glorfindel admitted. Experiencing his friend in this new and frankly sensual manner was absolutely arousing, yet both propriety and discretion required that he not indulge himself. Ignoring the swelling in his breeches, he focused his attention back on Erestor. "If I point out to you that these motions you have been executing are for use in swordfighting, do you still feel good about them?"

Reeling back a little, so that Glorfindel had to once again catch at him, Erestor nodded. "It feels alright still," he answered, surprised on some level that this should be the case.

"Good," soothed the warrior. 

Erestor giggled.

"What is so funny?" Amusement laced the seneschal's voice.

"I am sorry," tittered Erestor. "I had a memory, of the first day Estelwen arrived here in Imladris, and what she said to you when you attempted to proposition her. Do you remember? She wanted to write a scholastic work on sword technique. Oh, Eru, how hard it was for me not to laugh aloud...your sword..." Now he was laughing, so hard tears were coming to his eyes.

"I remember." Glorfindel rolled his eyes, chagrined. But only a little. "And it is time to distract you, apparently."

"Oh, I am distracted," Erestor said, his hand caressing Glorfindel's arousal through his clothing.

Smiling, Glorfindel ignored the wandering hand and kept his features neutral. Somehow. "Be that as it may, I now want to ask if you could throw some knives? Would doing that cause you any ill feelings?"

"No," Erestor answered immediately, impulsively ceasing his touches and walking to where the weapons lay, only to realize that the knives rested scattered amidst the dreaded swords. He swallowed, turning his head away.

"Would you rather I handed you the knives?" Glorfindel asked, immediately perceiving his friend's difficulty.

"It is visual," Erestor said both to himself and Glorfindel at the same time. "Seeing them is worse than talking about them," he trailed off.

"I am right here," came the reassurance. "Have some more water, and only look at me."

"I want to try something, but fear you will think I have taken leave of my senses," Erestor murmured, his eyes still fixed on Glorfindel's bulging groin. He drank the water, as he had been told.

"What is it?"

"I want to close my eyes, and have you place my hands on the weapon I struggle to look at. And then I want you to take me. Bring both of us to climax. At the height of my pleasure, I will look, quickly, just once, if I feel I can do so without falling apart. I do not know why but I am aroused, thinking of this, and I see a chance to create a different kind of memory that involves a sword. And if you think I am completely mad, I understand. This medication...Eru, Glorfindel, some part of me realizes that I am not quite myself."

Glorfindel stared. This was rather outside of anything he--or Elrond--had envisioned for a healing technique. Yet he was quite literally the only one who could give this to Erestor. "But we have no oil," the blond objected. "I will not hurt you like that."

Erestor shook his head, blushing lightly. "Estelwen had her way with me before we resumed work after lunch. She likes to pleasure me with her fingers...there. You will not find me unprepared."

"I see," Glorfindel drawled, quite amused. Oh, he was proud. He and Haldir had taught their meldis well.  _ Very, very well... _ "Alright. Though I do not relish explaining this to Lord Elrond, if you feel this strongly about it I will try."

"I do not intend to ever lie to him, Glorfindel. But I possess a sufficient command of....of...."

"Words?" offered the seneschal.

"Yes. Words. Those things," Erestor confirmed as he unlaced his leggings and knelt in the grass. "I will not tell him unless it is somehow demanded of me. Honestly I am certain he knows we all are lovers, but would prefer not to have that openly confirmed."

"Probably you are correct," Glorfindel answered, now bereft of his own leggings. His proud length jutted forward, and he knelt next to Erestor. "You are certain you wish to try this, Erestor?" he asked gently. "If sex is what you want right now I will not withhold it, though I do not intend for this to be a regular outcome of our training time together. I will ease your need; what I do not want is you forcing yourself to do something for which you are not ready out of the sense that this is some kind of bargain."

"No. I meant it," Erestor said, now breathing more heavily in anticipation at the touch of a gentle hand on his hip. "I am going to close my eyes now."

Glorfindel rose, and chose a sword. He came to Erestor and laid it on the grass, the blade pointing away from him. Only the pommel, grip and hilts were anywhere near his friend's hand. "Reach forward with your left hand; it is laid out just in front of you," he whispered. 

"I will. When you are inside of me," Erestor promised, choosing to focus on the hands that moved down his back. His body was long used to accepting Glorfindel, and required little foreplay. For obvious reasons, they kept their silence, though a sharp hiss of satisfaction escaped when their joining was complete. Glorfindel reached around to stroke Erestor's abundant length with light, feathery touches. Awash in the pleasure he was being given, the delicate hand crept forward on the grass. His mind could not allow him to grasp the weapon all at once, but did so in increments. 

First a finger barely brushed the pommel. Then a few tugs brought the grip underneath his hand. If he felt fear creeping up, he turned his head, to seek a kiss. His hand closed around the grip, and he did not know what to make of...what it felt like. Cylindrical, and hard, yet strangely yielding... _ surely there is something terribly wrong with me _ , he thought. Though at the same time, Glorfindel's skilled plundering of him caused any real belief in his self-aberration to be unconvincing. Rapidly, he was approaching climax, and swallowed hard. His eyes opened when the first burst of his seed left his body, and he saw. A single image, the sword in his grasp. His eyes shut again in an instant, but it was enough, as he felt and heard his partner's release.

His hand had not moved and his mind hosted a whirl of sensations. The bliss of orgasm; the knowledge that his hand held a sword. The hard, living shaft on which he was impaled; the unyielding yet silken grip of the weapon's leather. Glorfindel's strength, drawing his body up and against his chest into a warm embrace; the weight of the weapon he held. "I think you should let me take the sword from your hand, now," his lover suggested. "You have done so well today. Beyond anything I hoped for. I do not wish to have anything go wrong."

With his nod of agreement, Erestor felt the object leaving his grasp while his drugged mind still reeled from the enhanced perception of enjoyment he had experienced. He felt Glorfindel rise, heard some noises, then just as quickly he was rejoined. "You can open your eyes now," Glorfindel said. "The swords are covered now with a cloth so you will not see them." He rose to his feet with help, wrapping his arms around his friend in gratitude. "Will you tell me what you thought, and felt?"

"Yes, but I want to dress," Erestor said, his cheeks coloring. "I know that I am drugged, and yet a part of me still cannot believe I just did that."

"Well, me either, to be entirely candid. But we  _ did _ just do that, and I am interested to know what happened for you."

Already lacing his trousers, Erestor blushed harder. "If I began to feel fear, I stopped and turned to you. It would seem I am easily distractible just now," he admitted. "And then when finally I had the sword in my hand it was....I felt..." his cheeks were now crimson. "It was like having an arousal in hand, and I am completely mortified to admit that I thought that."

"Oh Erestor," Glorfindel smiled, abandoning the restoration of his clothing to hug his friend. "Every soldier since the dawn of weaponry has said that about his equipment at one time or another. Good grief, there is a  _ reason _ that our arousals are likened to swords. Do you need for me to spell out the analogies for arrows?"

"Ohhhh. Really?  _ Everyone? _ " The disbelieving chocolate eyes looked up at him in wide-eyed innocence.

"Valar, no wonder the king savored his night with you." Glorfindel felt, in that moment, wildly possessive of one he knew was not actually his. "Your beautiful innocence...you cannot possibly have any idea of how evocative you are, or the privilege I feel to know your body."

Erestor's head shook, for he still felt disconnected, floaty. "I always believed it was the other way around, Lord. You may not see yourself as anything remarkable. Well, it goes doubly for me. Whatever difficulties I still have, every imaginable blessing of intimacy is mine. Gorgeous wife, inside and out. Gorgeous..." he looked up, seeking words once again. "Gorgeous  _ you _ , inside and out. And even Haldir, though it has been many years...no one is more fortunate."

"Well, we can take our mutual admiration society away from here soon enough, but you have not done one thing that I have asked of you. I still want to see you throw your knives. The post, over there. And here, first drink more water." Humor and insistence tinged the seneschal's words in equal measure. 

"I forgot," Erestor said with an expression of genuine surprise.

"I realize that," Glorfindel chuckled. "I allowed you to be distracted."

"Distracted," Erestor frowned. "Knives."

Glorfindel seriously wondered if he should speak to Elrond about the dosage of the medication. Three weeks of this truly seemed a bit much.  _ Without it he never would have come this far _ , another thought contradicted.

Erestor picked up the four knives, feeling their weight, and pondering that the cloth over the swords seemed strange. There were swords there. There, but hidden. Under the cloth. Which meant they were still very much there.  _ I cannot see them _ , he reasoned,  _ but they are there _ .  _ Right now they do not bother me; it is well enough that they are there...huh. _

"Erestor? The knives?" Glorfindel reminded gently, seeing that his friend had come to a standstill whilst staring at the weapons array.

"I am sorry," the dark ellon grimaced. "It is so very hard to concentrate right now."

"I know. And that is alright. When you feel ready, just throw the knives at the post."

"The first throw might be a little abysmal," Erestor said worriedly, suddenly wondering how he was to manage in his present state.

_ Oh Eru _ , Glorfindel thought, but he kept his voice level. "Do not think about any of that. Only throw the knives, Erestor."

"Okay." He reeled a little in place, first trying to seek a sense of balance, then with unexpected fluidity, sank all four knives in a perfect diamond pattern into the post. "Huh," he said, blinking. "Wonder how that happened?"

"We will concern ourselves with that later," the smooth reply came. "Do you think you have cooled down enough to wear your robe again?"

Charmingly, Erestor bit his lip. "Yes. Yes, I think so." He was helped into the garment, for Glorfindel did not wish to take any chances on a mishap, at this point.

Finally, they left, with the seneschal determined to personally see him inside of his rooms. Alagos would still be playing with friends, at this hour, and hopefully Erestor would be far more normal by the time of his return. Elrond had said the effects would be very strong for about an hour and a half, then dissipate rapidly. Then something occurred to Glorfindel, another fact still unknown. "In all that you told Estelwen and I yesterday, you left out one explanation about which I have long wondered. You did not say who taught you to ride horses as well as you do."

"No one," Erestor answered, genuinely caught unawares. "They have ever been my friends. We...understand one another."

"In what way?" Glorfindel's interest was now thoroughly piqued.

"Well, they are like me," he replied quietly. "Given the opportunity they wish always to run from danger. In spite of that, they still have a place among us."

A pause ensued, of which Erestor remained oblivious. "Thank you for telling me," the warrior answered. "What you say is true. Take hope from the knowledge that even horses can learn to overcome their natural fears."

Once again, Erestor blinked. "Huh. Never thought of it like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I started writing versions of Glorfindel, I have always imagined him as a sword master, deeply interested in the more elegant forms of combat--his own form of scholarship in the realm of weapons. While I believe that he would have used a blade more akin to a standard longsword, I think he would have been highly skilled in the variations of this discipline native to the rapier--and insist on the study of this for those beginning their training with long blades. So the "circle" described in this chapter is what is known as the Spanish Circle, which can be seen here: http://sjaqua.tripod.com/spanishc.htm


	8. Parents and Children

"I am so proud of you, Erestor. This is to be your last day with the medication. How do you feel about it?" Glorfindel spoke in his usual, encouraging tones.

The counselor grinned. "Part of me wishes I had thought to count how many times I have been asked about my feelings these past weeks," he teased. "For surely it is more than for any other time in my life. But...well enough, I think? Blessedly, the dosage has been reduced, so that I can hope to string more than two thoughts together at once. I still have a sense of strangeness, holding this," he gestured to the sword in his hand. "As if I am supposed to be feeling the old way, but I do not? There are moments of fear that come over me, but it is not like before. I can remind myself that everything is well, and that the sky is not falling because this is in my hand. That it is just a....thing."

"Lord Elrond informed me... I am supposed to tell you that if you experience anxiety you cannot easily master henceforth, that more of the medicine can be given to you. It is important to keep your associations with weapons training neutral or positive, and not allow anxiety to gain a hold over you."

"I will do what is asked of me," Erestor replied compliantly. "I want to be better than I have been, for everyone's sake."

Glorfindel smiled. "There is another thing, I am to tell you. Except, I am going to go a little beyond and include a confession of my own." The clear blue eyes looked down, while he gathered his courage. "When I first realized you had never fought in a conflict, I could not have fathomed that it was because you were actively kept from doing so. I hardly remember a time when a sword was not in my hand, Erestor. It seemed alien and inexplicable to me. I now understand it was an act not only of compassion, but of great wisdom. You see, there are thousands like me; able to wield a weapon and fight. But there are precious few of you. Masterful scholars, thinkers, solvers of complex problems.

"Lord Elrond wishes you to understand, he will act as his king had originally commanded. Should something befall us in the future, you will not be sent into battle. You are far to valuable for that, all these other matters aside. The training we will pursue for you will have only to do with your confidence, your peace of mind, your ability to defend yourself as best as is possible. None of us can claim immunity, if the Lady Vairë weaves a conclusion of our time into her tapestry. But we will both know that you will have the same chances as any of the others, and that a long-carried burden has been laid to rest."

Erestor digested these words, stunned. "But...how is it fair?" he whispered. "How am I more deserving of a place in safety than any other? And you, risking your life all the time to...to..."

"To protect and to serve," Glorfindel said gently. "Look at me, Erestor. Strength was given to me, in unusual measure. I have always been blessed thus, and I have given of myself to aid Eru's children. All of them. This is  _ my _ purpose, but it is not yours. Your sword is your quill, and your arrows the intelligence of your mind and your words. While I wish it were not so, we will each be needed for our gifts. I have seen the face of evil, and have no reason to believe it will not rise again. It is already rising, and we will meet it when the time comes. Do not fear for me, though. I am not easy to kill."

The dark elf leaned into the reassurance of the large frame. "Would you tell me what it was like?" Erestor blurted out when he did not intend to. "I mean....oh, I am sorry, I did not wish to say that, I promised myself I would never ask...ohhhh," a groan of misery escaped him. "Please forgive me, Glorfindel."

The golden ellon tilted his head, and took the blade from his friend's hand with a kind smile. "I will forgive you readily...if you tell me what exactly it was you meant to not ask me. You left quite a number of possibilities hanging in the air."

"But we have never...I thought..."

"I am asking," the seneschal confirmed gently, bringing Erestor into his embrace. "I am allowing the question. Do not be afraid, my friend." Through his tunic, he could feel the other elf's heart pounding. Whatever question occupied his mind, it clearly needed to not be another burden.

"I always wondered what happened to them. To my family," Erestor clarified, his voice quavering badly as he forced himself to speak of a very deep fear only just now realized. "Whether they suffered, or felt pain and loneliness? You see there were times when I wished that I too would have died, to follow them. But I realized I was more afraid of the unknown than of living." His voice died to a pained whisper.

"Unknown?" Glorfindel repeated, baffled. "You cannot mean you were never taught about our Lords and Ladies, Erestor?"

"I know whatever I found written in books," he said, feeling his ignorance acutely; for indeed his knowledge extended only to what dry documents could tell. And little was written, for the precise reason that all elflings learned of these matters from their mothers and fathers. "My parents did not speak much of the Powers, Glorfindel. I believe they may have followed Fëanor and...I really am not certain even of that...but I loved them." He burst into tears. "I feel so....wrong."

His eyes squeezed shut, Glorfindel guided his friend's form down to the grass with him, the better to comfort him. "It is I who should feel wrong. And sorry. I had no idea, I never could have imagined..." the golden head shook in self-reprobation. "You parents did not suffer past the moment their bodies took injury and perished. When...." He took a deep breath, to steady himself. "When our spirits are set free by the death of our physical selves, we hear the summons of Námo. It is gentle, warm, guiding. There is no terror in it, nothing to fear. It feels like a beacon, that guides the way and only with thought, we follow. Once we are brought before the Vala, he speaks to us. For me it felt like a...like a conversation, much like the one you and I are having now."

Erestor clung to him. "You were not afraid? Is Námo not our judge?"

"I do not remember fear. More like, curiosity. He asked me to tell of how I arrived, and whether I wished to confess anything to him. I spoke of remembering the balrog, and of my regrets, which were sincere. Had I to do it all over again, I would have obeyed the admonition of the Valar. I would have remained in Aman, and spared myself the many experiences of tragedy and grief. But I told him too that I felt confused, for my time in Middle-Earth forged me into a stronger elf than I believed I otherwise might have been. I learned to fight. To rule others in fairness. To love, and care for many. I asked him for guidance, to please help me. I never wished to be disobedient; the impulsiveness of youth and loyalty to family and friends..." he shook his head, smiling. "What can I say?"

"What did he do?" Erestor asked, now curled up in a ball in Glorfindel's lap much as Alagos would do.

"He laid a hand on my head, and smiled. The Vala said that I would be cared for, strengthened, but that for now I was to rest, and allow my spirit to reflect. That I would re-examine my years, and gain insight. I was glad enough of this. I know you will ask me next how long I was dead, and I cannot exactly tell you. It seemed long, and quite brief, all at the same time. To this day I am uncertain how it...works, there. But there is nothing to fear, Erestor. Nothing to fear in death. It is quite possible that your parents now live again; many years have passed. I do not have to tell you, though, they will not come to these shores. Someday, though, they will hold you again."

"My brother, too?"

"Yes. When your parents are ready, he will be returned to them, as he was, to complete the years of his youth. The enemy has no real sway over us, my friend. Our Powers are merciful, and guard us. Trust me, I do not want to die a second time. But if such is my lot, I will know it for what it is; a temporary separation from those I love. This gives me strength, for I have what the Enemy does not; a hope. A certainty. What waits for Sauron is the darkness outside, where his master already has been banished beyond the Doors of Night."

"I should have known of these things, Glorfindel," Erestor murmured. "I feel deeply ashamed that I did not. I hope I will not have angered them. Part of this was my own fear. I could have asked, for surely anyone could have told me. But this too I hid away. Master Erestor is not supposed to be unaware of what most any child would know."

"No more than I am deeply ashamed to never have spoken of it before, when I have been given so much," the golden Lord said. "You did not realize, but much about you has caused me to consider my circumstances anew, Erestor. All this time I could have helped you, but we kept walls up, dividing us, because we believed there was a need. There is caution and then there is utter stupidity; if you have not proved your loyalty to me, who has? I am still not ready to proclaim Glorfindel to the world, but I am seriously questioning the degree to which I have kept him buried under a pile of shields. I promise to do better, my friend. When we are in privacy, and this of course includes your wife, you may ask me anything."

"I thank you," Erestor said. "Not for that, which I do appreciate, but for what you have just told me. I would like, so much, to learn more of them. Our Lords and Ladies, I mean."

Glorfindel looked down and for a moment saw that in this, Erestor was still an elfling, hungry for spiritual understanding. "Wait. 'What any child would know...' Erestor, what of Alagos? Has he been taught nothing either?"

"May They forgive me, I do not know," Erestor's face appeared stricken.

"Do not be grieved," the seneschal said. "I will help you to correct this. No harm is done, Erestor, and perhaps unbeknownst to you Estelwen has taught him."

"I feel like a terrible father," he said, near to tears.

"No. And I will not hear another word like this out of you. I will fetch more medicine, if you need it?"

The threat of an enforced stupor shook Erestor from his unprofitable thoughts. "Please, no. I will stop. I am sorry for what I said. I can do better," he affirmed to himself just as much as to his teacher.

"Good," Glorfindel's voice returned to mildness. "I do not want to be so hard on you, Erestor. It is that I want so much for you to succeed."

"I know, and I am grateful." The rosy lips managed a smile. "What will you teach me now?"

**

{Twenty-nine years later}

"You have done well, meldis. But your son is without question in possession of some of the most impressive raw talent I have seen in a great while."

"I would think you are trying to flatter me," Estelwen murmured. "But then I remind myself, you have no need of it." Her eyes followed Alagos, as he sparred with another of the Imladris guard. Mere days away from his fiftieth aur en onnad, he revealed the grace and development of rapidly approaching physical maturity. He would not have all of Erestor's height; only much of it. "I am so grateful my son did not take after me, Glorfindel. I do not know why I am so physically small. My mother is a much larger elleth. Father too is...well, not like you are, but far from petite. And then there was...me."

"Do you know, I really do not see you as tiny, most of the time?" Glorfindel grinned. "Of course, I intellectually grasp that you and I are something like complete physical opposites. But your mind is larger than my body, if that makes any sense."

Open laughter came from her petite frame. "Only you, my friend," she grinned, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. 

"How are your parents?" he inquired politely, never having met them. 

"Presumably very well. They elected to sail. I received word of it when Erestor's relatively recent difficulties came to light and..." a shrug fell easily from her shoulders. "I was happy for them. There was hardly any rush to respond as it was essentially a good-bye letter, and...we shall meet again some day. They are now beyond what can go wrong on these shores, and to me that is enough. At the time I recall feeling far more occupied with my husband's troubles. 

"Oh, I will be honest. We were such an independent bunch. My parents taught me to reach out for what I wanted and try my best to take it; they wanted me to believe that I was deserving of the same opportunities as anyone else. Of course we loved each other but we were not one of those clingy families that wrote every month and traveled for visits every hundred years. Obviously," she snorted. "I have not seen them since the day I departed Mithlond."

"There is no fault in that," Glorfindel smiled. "I think I outstrip you for 'most years without having said hello to mother'." 

"Probably true," Estelwen quipped, giving him a sly sideways glance. "Now that we have established that my husband is indeed older than I, and you presumably older yet, I will concede that title to you."

"Ouch," Glorfindel grinned, relishing their banter. "You are not supposed to enjoy me being right quite that much!"

"Don't worry, I'll make it up to you," she said drily, earning another chuckle from him. "But in earnest? Alagos is all but of age now, my friend. I will not do for him any different than what my parents did for me. I will not hold him back with cloying and sentiments--I have seen that in other parents and it repulses me. I had the joy of him these last years since the day of his arrival into my arms, and I thank our Lords and Ladies for every moment of it. He has a life to live, and he will do that as he chooses, not I. Hopefully Erestor feels the same, though I confess we have never quite spoken of exactly this."

"Your ability to let go is rarer than perhaps you realize, Estelwen," the seneschal said.

"So you tell me, but in part it is because it is a deeply held conviction of mine. I am just as capable of wanting to cling as the next person. The difference, if there is one, is that I refuse to allow it in myself. Demanding more than what another wishes to give...that is not love. That is selfishness. Maybe someday I will crumble and fail...but I want to try to do what is right. What else is there?"

"There is nothing else. I would kiss you right now, but it would be wildly inappropriate," he teased. 

"Well lucky for you, I gladly accept deferred presents if they are from the right person. I will trust you not to allow Alagos to wear himself out too much.  As much as I enjoyed all your teaching of me, meldir, we both knew I would have limitations. But look at him, moving with a dancer's grace! His father is proud as well. You have been such a blessing, to us. Ai! Look at me. Rattling on, and I still have to finish a very long document. Until later, O Most Fair One."

With a cheeky grin, she waved a fare-well at her friend, who was still cheerfully enjoying the last of her wit.  _ Not as great of a blessing as you, EstelwenI _ , he thought to himself, turning his gaze back to Alagos. He continued to watch for quite some time; everything he saw fully satisfied his exacting standards. Here was one who would in time be one of his Captains, likely sooner rather than later.

**

{a few days after}

"Urgent message for you, Lord Glorfindel." With a deep bow, the runner offered up the sealed document.

"Go seek rest, refreshment for you and your horse." He knew this ellon, and that he was from the group on rotation nearest the Ford of the Bruinen. To be here, he would have had a hard ride of many hours up the valley and then the rest on foot, since mounts were not permitted in the central area of their realm. He noted the seal, and that he did not recognize the imprint as elven. That left one other likely possibility, and already his heart began to sink. Quickly, his eyes scanned what was written. "Valar, have mercy on us," he pleaded to the Powers. "It has begun."


	9. Developments

Glorfindel had wasted no time in reaching the office of Lord Elrond. "This, just in from those guarding the entrance to the valley. The time of waiting is over, it would appear."

Elrond took the message from Glorfindel's hand. "Minas Ithil is lost, then," he read. "And Isildur bound for King Elendil. The White Tree in Minas Ithil is destroyed."

The golden warrior lowered his head and averted his gaze, knowing how precious this remnant of Nimloth was to the faithful men of that realm. Yet it hardly compared with how many must have perished. "Like as not we will have more details in time, and surely Gil-galad will command us soon."

The Elflord's shoulders bowed. "Yes. From the sound of this, Minas Anor yet stands defended, and that is something. But Anárion cannot hold indefinitely. Truthfully, we know little and will guess at much. But we were not wrong, to strengthen and train. This is an early warning, my friend. It will not be terribly long now."

"Do you wish me to summon Erestor and the other counselors?"

For some moments, Elrond massaged his temples, not answering immediately. "Tonight is the celebration of Alagos' fiftieth begetting day, is it not?"

"Yes, but in view of the seriousness..."

Elrond held up his hand commandingly. "I would ask you to keep this between us until tomorrow. Let all who love Alagos have these last hours in peace and happiness. For we both know, that provision will run out before any of the others."

With a bow of his head, Glorfindel made to leave, but paused briefly in the doorway. "I wish, so much, that you were not right."

**

"My blessing, Alagos," Glorfindel smiled, enfolding the smiling youth into a bear hug. "Much joy, on your fiftieth begetting day."

"Thank you, Uncle Glorfindel," the youth answered. "Thank you for everything. You have given me so much..." His eyes shone with gratitude, and love.

_ So much like your father and mother _ , the seneschal thought. For indeed, grown to full stature now, Alagos had so much of Erestor's physical beauty. His whole life lay ahead of him, Glorfindel thought with a measure of both envy and sorrow. It grieved him, to know that tomorrow their world would begine to come crashing down. Just as it had last time. Just as it had in Gondolin. In Doriath. In Nargothrond. He heard of them all, eventually, and wondered how many names would join that list before their enemy was vanquished. He believed, somewhere deep in his heart, that the Powers would not tolerate this forever. And yet he respected their own self-imposed limitations. The war to overthrow Morgoth had literally destroyed a vast region; they did not wish this to happen again. He wondered sometimes if this was not a mistake; Sauron was not the same as his former master.  _ I am here to serve, not judge, _ he told himself, to quash these unhelpful musings.

"Uncle?" Alagos asked, unsure of Glorfindel's lack of response.

"Oh! I am sorry, nephew. Forgive an old ellon, sometimes the mind slips to other places," he smiled, his usual merriment restored.

"Of course, Uncle," the great beauty graciously answered, moving off to speak to other friends and guests. Glorfindel could not help but notice, a few of those 'friends' appeared to be young ellith who did not try to hide the yearning in their eyes. The open sincerity with which Alagos returned these silent solicitations led Glorfindel to one conclusion. His nephew would not have to wait long for a willing one to take to his bed. Estelwen had been rather insistent, that if her son wished, he would be able to have quarters of his own. It would only be a small room, not nearly as nice or spacious as that to which his parents had the right, but it would be his. She was quite proud of him when he did choose this, and helped him bring his things there when he asked for her help.

It had surprised Estelwen, a little, when Alagos asked for...counsel, regarding females. She knew that Erestor had done his duty as a father, and explained sexual realities carefully and on more than one occasion. Neither of them wished their nightmarish early experiences to be a deterrent to their adult son's ability to enjoy his life. They did the best they could, and kept their own histories to themselves. "Have you any advice for me, emel?" he had asked her quietly.

"Only what someone wise told me long ago," she smiled. "Take the time to know a person, before you choose to invite them to your bed and your body. Make certain that their reputation among others is something that satisfies your standards. Enjoy yourself, son...but a little caution will go far toward your happiness."

"And if I were to choose an ellon?" he asked.

His mother shrugged. "Then know that he should treat you with the same respect and care, of body and spirit. Gender matters not, son. The heart inside of the body; that is everything. You can always come and talk in confidence to myself or your father. We will only ever tell you what we truly believe is right; your life is your own to live."

"You are the best mother anyone could ever want," he said, hugging her carefully, for she was much smaller.

"Only because you are the finest son a mother could ever hope to have. Always, I will love you. I love you so much I even will not make you late for your lessons with Lord Glorfindel," she grinned. If Alagos had one tiny flaw, it was that time could and did run away from him.

"Oh! I love you, emel..." with a breathless kiss to her cheek he dashed off as quickly as his long legs would allow.

Estelwen looked up at the clear blue sky. "Maybe I did a few things right," she smiled, now not minding that more archives needed copying. Taking her time, she returned to her desk in the library, and her work.

**

{the next week}

"The host of Lindon will arrive here as soon as they can organize their supplies and equipment," Elrond informed his council. "Which, based on past experience, will mean that they will depart inside of the next fortnight. The High King has announced his intention to use Imladris as the staging area for all final preparations. That makes our task clear enough; we must be ready to receive a vast number, exceeding our own population by several orders of magnitude." He spoke to all of them, but his gaze fell on Erestor, more than most. "Obviously, the best guest quarters will be given over to Gil-galad himself and his highest-ranked advisors."

"We are ready," Erestor replied confidently. "Well over ten thousand of the weatherproof ground cloths and sleeping shelters are on inventory. The same applies for tightly woven woolen blankets. Every soldier who received training also has been provided complete armor that is custom-fitted. Auxiliary staff like bootmakers, smiths, cooks, healers, carpenters, seamstresses all understand who their own assigned staff are; wagons are readied and in storage for use. Lindir informs me that we have enough dried rations to feed a vast number for a...very long time. I can of course provide you with detailed statistics."

"I only wish to know more precisely what qualifies as 'a very long time'?" Elrond asked.

"More than three years," the counselor answered. "To be more exacting, I will need to know the troop numbers arriving from Lindon."

Elrond nodded. "We will have them soon enough. It stands to reason we will have to increase our hunting in the outer lands. I have not been happy with how hard we have had to lean on our farmers and livestock herders for these past many years but, what choice has there been? Armies require food and fiber, equipment and support. We are simply fortunate that this has been viewed as a cooperative endeavor and not just their Lord making unreasonable demands."

Bercalion shook his head. "The elves remember, and the men remember via the histories of their people. Everyone knows what will occur, if we do not succeed. Their perceptions, Lord, are the least of our collective worries. Harvests have been bountiful, animals have reproduced in abundance. We have been fortunate, to have had this time of preparation."

"I do not believe we could have organized better," Estelwen offered. "But is there news of the other realms? What of those in the Greenwood, or our friends in Lórien?"

"That is somewhat...less concrete," Elrond said carefully. "Dispatches have been sent to both rulers by messenger bird. We have yet to hear back, but we ensured from the first that they were made aware of the Enemy's return. We can only wait, and hope that they perceive the necessity of uniting our forces."

"Why does that not entirely encourage me?" Estelwen muttered under her breath, so softly that only Glorfindel next to her caught the faint words. His features remained carefully neutral, but inside of himself he smiled.

"I am certain everyone here has much to oversee, so I will refrain from dragging this on," Erestor added, earning knowing grins from everyone at the table. "I would only add that if there is time, I believe it would be of benefit to cross-inspect each other's preparations. Sometimes a fresh pair of eyes helps identify possible oversights."

Glorfindel arched his eyebrow. That was...true enough. "Perhaps you would do me the honor, Counselor, of examining my troop rosters and equipment inventories. Your idea strikes me as exceedingly...prudent."

"It would be my honor," Erestor smiled. "Our honor," he clarified, smiling at Estelwen.

**

The seneschal arrived back to his quarters mentally exhausted, thinking to bathe and enjoy the time in solitude before the evening meal. Then perhaps a book, and some time by the fire. With a sigh he closed and locked his door behind him, vaguely steeling himself for the approaching realities. War. War meant no soft mattress, meals taken in comfort and with civilized appointments, and certainly no steaming hot baths. Kicking his boots off, he stepped past the parlor, thoroughly unprepared for the sight that greeted his gaze.

A stunning, pale-haired elleth had distributed herself across his bedspread, fully nude. All her charms were on display, and an enticing smile looked back at him. Glorfindel found himself transfixed between the instant reaction of his loins at a sight anyone living should find appealing and significant annoyance that someone he did not know was here, uninvited, and presumptuous enough to assume they would find welcome with... this. Even he would at least offer hospitality first, with all of his clothes still on. And so he could not decide if he felt intrigued or insulted.

His guest had not missed the twitch in his breeches, and smiled. "Lord Glorfindel." Her tone was rich, confident.

His blue eyes glittered back at her. Apparently he had reached a place in his life where the promise of a good tumble did not cause him to abandon all caution. "You will forgive me for not knowing your name," he answered in even tones. "And for my inability to be pleased that someone unfamiliar to me has entered my private quarters uninvited for the purpose of seducing me."

"Oh, is this a problem?" she answered, genuinely appearing surprised. "I am Baineth, from one of the remote villages. I was told that you were free with your affections, but if that is not the case I will certainly ask your pardon and remove myself." 

Glorfindel was not used to being flummoxed, but this was managing it. "I do have a reputation, and for a reason," he responded mildly. "But I am not in the habit of sharing with those I only first laid eyes on seconds ago. I equally believe this would not be a good time to start. I do not mean to seem ungrateful for your...lovely offer; you are very beautiful. I believe we would need to try again, as they say. Yet surely you also know my role here, and that we are preparing for war. I would consider it more to my liking to ask you to dine with me. Have some conversation. Perhaps the day after tomorrow?"

Slipping gracefully back into her clothing, she tightened the belt that bound her outer garments over her tunic. "I will see you then," she smiled, disappearing in an unruffled instant.

**

The wine was poured, the dishes warmed, and Glorfindel found his thoughts drifting unavoidably back to the incredibly appealing figure of the elleth who had been here two nights before. Had he made a mistake, not simply just accepting what was offered? What would the harm have been? In the end, he concluded it was some amorphous compulsion to follow one of his own tenets. To slow down, and be certain of the other person. Yes, he loved freely; that was not the same as wantonness. The word 'love' was in that sentence, and he felt the distinction to be important. His partners had never been only warm bodies; there was some element of friendship or regard on which his willingness to share sexual pleasure rested. Then again, how much did he truly expect to learn over one dinner conversation? His behavior struck him as mildly hypocritical. Perhaps what had really bothered him most was that her forwardness deprived him of something to which he was rather used--control over the encounter?

The knock came at the appointed time, and he admitted his guest, who had dressed with careful attention to her appearance. They dined; he found her to be an able enough conversationalist. If he noticed that a genuine spark of mutual attraction was lacking, he decided that it did not need to take precedence. It would hardly be the first time that an intercourse would be primarily for sexual gratification. Seated near each other, her hand finally traced fingertips down his forearm. "Is this where I ask, now what?" Baineth smiled, clearly amused.

The seneschal grinned. "'Now what' is that I am honest with you about the fact that while sometimes the same lover comes to my bed, I do not pair off. Ever. And that if I am known for my willingness to love many, I am equally known for my discretion. If another knows you have been here, it will not have been from my lips. That is what I offer; if the terms are unacceptable no offense is taken."

"They are fair enough," Baineth conceded. "I enjoy sex with extremely attractive ellyn. I certainly have no wish to marry. Just punctuated occasions, a night or two of lust and pleasure, until the next chance comes along. Some feel such pursuits are inappropriate, but I think you can see I am rather unapologetic. I will not promise my silence regarding this encounter, but neither do I tend to speak of my partners without reason."

"Equally fair enough," Glorfindel answered, leaning down to kiss her carefully. A throaty moan of appreciation followed. Her hand lifted to remove the ornament that held up her hair, allowing the flaxen waves to tumble over his arms. When the next half-hour had elapsed, Glorfindel beheld a familiar sight. A bed partner, writhing beneath him as he masterfully plunged into her over and over, drawing out their contact with all of his skill. In turn he arched his back, savoring every moment of a luxury he feared would soon become quite rare; the intoxications of a warm room, privacy, and bare skin. He brought her repeatedly to climax, pausing long enough in between to savor other aspects of lovemaking. In the end, he released himself with a low growl, allowing himself to be powerfully swept away. Breathing heavily, he took in her unfamiliar yet pleasant scent.

"Well. That was worth the wait," she opined. "You did not disappoint." Baineth winked at him out of a face that bore a bright and playful smile. Languidly, she stretched, and dressed.

"You may sleep here, if you wish," he courteously offered, a little intrigued. Most others sought excuses to stay, not to leave early.

"It is not my preference. Please do not take that as any reflection on what we have shared. This was exactly what I wanted; I just prefer to sleep alone."

"Understood." His head inclined gracefully, while he donned a lounging robe. Hardly was he going to fault someone else for knowing their preferences or insisting on their wishes. "Then I will thank you for the conversation, and the pleasure."

"Likewise. I will see myself out. Perhaps another time?" With a kiss to his cheek and this not-so-subtle hint, she was gone. 

Glorfindel shrugged, and waited a moment before locking the door behind her. Puttering, he began to tidy up the remains of the evening, stacking plates and arranging items on the little cart that would be wheeled into the hallway for return to the kitchens. When he extinguished the last candle, an awareness came over him. A sadness. Yes, he had relieved his lust. The sex had been completely fantastic. And he felt empty, hollow, because really he did not know her and honestly had no interest in trying to change that. She had used him with full permission, just as he had used her. "I used to want this, and only this," he reflected soberly. "And now I feel vaguely...wrong, for having had it. You  _ know _ what you want, Glorfindel. I think you have for some time. You just have to allow yourself to admit it. Sooner or later." He paused again, in his discussion with himself. "I think, later."

Staring at the fire for awhile longer, he cast off the robe and dressed again. 

A few moments later, he stood in front of the door to Erestor and Estelwen's quarters. He hesitated for a few seconds...and knocked. Estelwen opened it, dressed in a flattering night-gown and a robe that she had pulled closed over her chest. When she saw who it was, her head tilted to regard him and why he might be there when he had never done such as this before. The diminutive hand released the fabric and grasped his fingers, pulling him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More "what's going on here?":   
> In S.A. 3429, Sauron has amassed sufficient power and strikes the southern lands of men from Mordor. He attacks Gondor (at this time Minas Tirith is known as Minas Anor), currently ruled by Elendil's son Anárion. Sauron is not successful at overthrowing Minas Anor or Osgiliath. But he is successful at razing Minas Ithil, ruled by Isildur. Isildur made his home in Minas Ithil, and the first White Tree of Gondor had stood before his house; it was destroyed. Isildur is now forced to flee to the north, to his father Elendil's kingdom in Arnor. It is this action on Sauron's part that triggers the formation of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men...though it is my surmise that the men and elves watched and waited for a long time for exactly such as this to happen after they became aware of Sauron's return to Mordor.


	10. Three Years in Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What's going on here?"  
> In S.A. 3431 The elves of Lindon under the Noldorin High King Gil-galad meet with the forces of the men of the west, those ruled by Elendil, and converge on Imladris. But they will spend the next THREE YEARS there, before marching south to Mordor. It is during this time that the watchtower that will be known in LoTR as "Weathertop" is constructed; it was designed to hold the chief palantír of the north; the seeing-stones given as a gift by the elves to the faithful descendants of the men of Númenor and possibly created by Fëanor himself. There were eight of the seeing-stones originally; seven in Middle Earth and the eighth master stone on the isle of Tol Eressëa in Aman. They were located at: Annúminas (ruling seat of Elendil), Weathertop, Emyn Beriad (the Tower Hills north of the Shire), Osgiliath, Orthanc (the tower of Isengard), Minas Ithil and Minas Anor. At this point in time, it is unknown whether Sauron has captured the seeing-stone of Minas Ithil when he overthrew the city--in my mind, Isildur was able to save it this time around, only to have it finally be lost in later conflict that transformed Minas Ithil into Minas Morgul, the city of the Ringwraiths.  
> However, all is not well between the elven realms. At this point in time, one version of the story of Galadriel and Celeborn (what I am using here) places them in the south coastal regions of Gondor, planning to sail west to the Undying Lands. Amdír, a Sindar ruler, reigns over the Golden Wood just as Oropher, another Sindar elf and the father of Thranduil, rules the Greenwood from his fortress at Amon Lanc--one day to be known as Dol Guldur. Both of these elves likely hailed from the now destroyed realm of Doriath in Beleriand, where they had absorbed a deep prejudice against the ruinous actions of the Noldorin elves on account of the kinslayings of the First Age. Celeborn was Sindar, while Galadriel was Noldorin.  
> And even though it is called the Alliance of Elves and Men, Dúrin's folk that at this time were propsering in Moria were friends of the Noldorin elves that once dwelled in Eregion--before Sauron ruined everything for them earlier in the Second Age. The dwarves also joined the Alliance but little is recorded of their deeds.

{six weeks later-S.A. 3431}

"Well, what is your news, O Secretive One?" Estelwen teased Glorfindel while dishing up a serving of plump chicken. The Glorfindel in question was pouring wine for the three of them, while Erestor alternated between passing the rolls around and nuzzling his wife.

"I could tell it,  _ if _ your ellon could behave himself instead of skipping straight to dessert," the blond said acerbically.

Erestor stood up, moved his chair with alacrity to the other side of the table, and resumed his nuzzling, but this time with Glorfindel as the recipient. Estelwen thought this was far more entertaining than the food, and began to giggle. "Eru, you two are adorable together," she grinned, enjoying herself immensely. Especially when Glorfindel made such efforts at pretending to be annoyed-- when he so obviously liked it. "Who needs news?"

Erestor finished his performance with a passionate kiss full on the blond's mouth that pleased Glorfindel more than he wanted to admit. Blushing a little, he cleared his throat. "I am TRYING TO SAY, that the High King will be here the morning after next. They are camped only a few leagues beyond the valley."

"Oh," Estelwen said softly. "Well, we knew this was coming, and now it is basically...here. How long do you think this all will take, Glorfindel? Until we all leave here? For I cannot see this war coming north. This will be a march to the south. There is no other logical outcome."

"We? Surely you do not include yourself in that, Estelwen?" The expression on Erestor's face had shifted dramatically. 

His wife's lips pressed together in thin disapproval. "I am not a warrior, Erestor. I think we all know this. But I am one of the counselors of this elven realm, with a duty to its Lord, and frankly I would like to see anyone try to stop me. There are roles in war having nothing to do with spears and shields, from cooks to those who must keep an accounting of details when those fighting have no time or strength to do so. I have a part to play, as do you. And I sincerely hope this discussion is over with."

Erestor paled, his lips parted in shock. In all their years together, she had never spoken to him like this. Never. 

Her tone softened. "I love you, Erestor. But I will not permit my gender to be used as an excuse--because it is not. I know you mean well, and fear for my safety. I would guess we will all fear for our safety before this is done. I will hardly be the only elleth traveling with our armies. Glorfindel, tell him."

"I am sorry," Erestor murmured, ashamed. "There are times I still--I cannot always help it."

"And I am sorry for the harshness of my words. I did not mean to speak to you so...bluntly. It is that I feel very strongly, about this. We must be examples to the others, husband. Show strength, as best we are able."

Glorfindel smoothly interjected. "I know now where your son gets both his fire and his prudence, Erestor. This does not make you wrong, friend. Truly it makes you the sanest among us. But Estelwen is right, we do have those obligations." His arm came around his friend. "Privately, between the three of us? I expect this campaign to be the controlled chaos that all campaigns are. We will press on to victory, which is code for, 'if we are very fortunate, we will kill far more orcs than kill us and somehow manage to achieve something resembling our military objective.' Which in this case, is a very tall order," he sighed. 

"I had not known that deep down you were such a pragmatist with a touch of delicious cynicism, Glorfindel. I approve wholeheartedly." Estelwen smirked, as she elegantly speared a piece of carrot and whisked it through the sauce. 

Erestor snorted, feeling a little better. Their speech made him realize, they shared his worries but expressed them somewhat differently. "I love you both," he said sincerely. "You have always supported me. Corrected me. I might have muddled through on my own, but you both have changed my life beyond recognition. Friendship, family, our beautiful Alagos..." a sigh of happiness escaped him. "You give me strength."

"Our beautiful Alagos has been little seen lately," Estelwen noted saucily. "It would seem he has discovered the delights of the bedroom, if the amount of time he is seen in the company of ellith is any indication."

"I am hardly going to criticize him," Glorfindel grinned.

"I am just happy for my son," Erestor said lovingly. "He...is blessedly ordinary, in the way I was not."

"While looking every bit as utterly beautiful as you," Estelwen smiled. She was a mother, but not blind. Her son was gorgeous, like his father.

"Alright, you two. Dessert is after the main meal," Glorfindel growled.

"Are we heating up your plate?" Estelwen asked innocently.

"Toasting your roll?" Erestor added, darting a sidewise glance at the handsome warrior.

"Nibbling on your--"

"Valar!" Glorfindel threw down his napkin and roared with laughter. "I will do anything later tonight,  _ if _ you will both behave like grown elves!"

" _ Ooooh _ . Offer accepted," Estelwen immediately fired back, already pondering just what indulgence she might gain from that promise.

Erestor smirked, and nodded. The meal was finished in peace.

**

"I would imagine you are wishing to know what comes next," Gil-Galad smiled, trying to set the Council at ease. Estelwen could honestly say she had never attended a meeting that began with the assembly of them on their knees. However, High Kings tended to cause that sort of thing.

"Yes, Lord," Erestor replied softly, finding himself overwhelmed on some level to see Gil-galad after so many long years. A brief glimmer of affection came into the King's eyes, before they moved along, and Estelwen smiled inside of herself to see it. 

"We intend to be here for some time. But not in the way you likely fear," he reassured. "With the blessing of the seeing-stones, I have been able to communicate with Elendil. We have determined there needs to be another watchtower, much closer to this refuge. It is to be rather unoriginally named Amon Sûl. You see, it will take time to send word into the far regions to call men and elves to arms. To forge more weapons and plan. Time, to attempt to persuade our brethren in the woods east of the Hithaeglir and perhaps Durin's folk to join our forces. 

"I have no intention of spending all that time unprofitably. When the men of Arnor arrive, they will aid us in this endeavor. It will be no small feat, for it will be located on the highest peak of the Emyn Sûl, what men name the Weather Hills. You will find us provisioned and able to manage; my own seneschal will oversee most of...that. I intend to dwell here, and will receive reports on the progress of this construction at intervals. There is much on which to confer."

Estelwen caught Glorfindel's eye with the greatest subtlety, and made a particular motion with her small hands; one hand gently grasping the other. It was a well-understood gesture of love and support that only they shared. Elrond rose, heedless of this communication, and gestured to Erestor to present an overview of preparations to the King.  _ Here we go _ , she thought. Her love for Erestor was undiminished, but there were times when his ability to narrate at length on anything and everything...well... The seneschal gave her the tiniest smirk of shared sympathy.

*****

The months wore on, and became years. The massive tower took shape over two hundred leagues distant to the west; when finally it was complete the focus of the High King turned elsewhere. Gil-Galad returned to the valley one late afternoon, and asked Elrond to convene the Council the next day. The somewhat harried ellon bowed in recognition of the command, which gave the King pause. 

"Elrond, how have you fared, in all this?" 

"Well enough, Lord." He smiled crookedly. "I have, we have, done our best to prepare in every way we believed you would instruct were you here yourself. I have Erestor, Glorfindel, and those who serve under them. We tell ourselves we have managed but..." he shook his head. "I am well aware, this is the easy part. What comes next will be much harder."

"Erestor..." Gil-galad repeated thoughtfully. "Has he been well? He is wed, from the look of it?"

"Yes. For a very long time now, and their son came of age only recently. He has proven to be an outstanding fighter," Elrond grinned, knowing that his Lord was quite aware of Erestor's difficulty.

"Really?" the King asked, trying to ensure that he was not being the victim of some of Elrond's subtle humor.

"In full sincerity," came the reply. "Glorfindel trained him personally, since he was a small elfling. Just as he did Erestor. Well, except the elfling part."

"Trained  _ Erestor _ ?" Gil-galad was not certain he had heard correctly.

"Yes. My seneschal insisted he not be left defenseless. It became a personal project between he and I, to help Erestor overcome his deep seated fears of...what happened. Even if I did not know it to be your command, I would never ask Erestor to fight. Honestly, even with all his progress I believe it would be a serious mistake. But he can now use ordinary weapons with good proficiency, and has a chance of defending himself should the need to arise. Glorfindel tells me, though, that he will never be fully beyond the events that affected him. Yet it is a great improvement."

"Really." Ereinion digested all these things. "Well, I should like to see Erestor's son...he has a name?"

"Alagos," Elrond affirmed. "You will recognize him; his resemblance to his father is quite strong. One of his eyes is two colors, similar to his mother."

With a smile and an inclination of his head, the King moved along to his next errand.

**

{S.A. 3434}

"They will come...but not subject to us," Elrond said, handing over the messages from the forest realms.

Gil-galad raised his eyebrows. "I suppose that is what is called a mixed blessing," he sighed. "I only hope that the prejudices borrowed from a sunken land will not prove to be a ruin. I will focus on their assent. You should summon those under you; we will meet again in the morning but only briefly. From what you have explained, your people will require a week to execute their obligations and be able to leave in an orderly manner. I am also aware that the mountain pass out of this valley has a narrow passage; in places wide enough only for a wagon. The departure will be slow." 

"There is yet another message, my King," Elrond said, handing over the response from the Dwarrowdelf.

"The dwarves will come!" Gil-galad's lips curled in a smile. "Then some old allegiances yet hold."

"Their quarrel against Sauron is not lesser than ours," Elrond said, seeing that the King's eyes were fixed  upon him. He nodded his head, in answer to the unspoken question.

"Then we leave in a week."

**

"Estelwen, we will not be with each other in this manner for a long while," Glorfindel said, holding her during what was to be the last intimacy the three of them would share together in Imladris for many years. "I must lead our forces, and you and Erestor will find yourselves overseeing the support staff and equipment, and facilitating the distribution of supplies. While I may not be so far off, it will be distance enough."

She had asked him,  _ insisted _ , that he reveal to her the blunt realities of what their passage south would be like. For never having been to war, or having been near a war, she had no way of knowing other than what scrolls and codices could reveal. He spoke of many things, from the endless walking (like going to Lórien several times over) to the changed weather they would find in the south.

"We will depart through the High Pass, at the east end of the valley," he said. "It will be cold for a brief time, so high in the mountains. I think you remember."

Her head nodded and she clung to him, remembering how his body had shielded and warmed her in those cold places. Erestor watched, realizing that they were sharing a moment that had its roots in the earliest days of their relationship. 

"You will have Erestor, to warm you." 

This brought a peaceful smile to her face. Travel could be hard, but she would have her husband, this time.

"And then we will move south and south and south, to find what we will find. The food will be plain and basic, the days long. It can be boring and weary, but your station will afford you some extra comforts. Elrond will keep his counselors near; expect to meet with him in the evenings for meals. Possibly you will be able to sleep some nights under the shelter of Elrond's tent. Erestor knows you will be tasked with monitoring supplies and provisions as they are consumed, and keeping records. I will see you sometimes. But a chance for love such as we have all enjoyed here will be rare indeed."

"I know," she said. "Given the larger circumstances, that can hardly afford to matter. But I will freely admit, I am spoiled. To have lived here for so long, in comfort. It will not be easy."

"We are all spoiled, Estelwen," Erestor conceded. "But we will have tonight."

She looked down. "I want to watch you both. The two closest to my heart in all the world, sharing with each other." A crooked grin came to her face as her head tilted toward the ceiling. "Wherever you are, Haldir, forgive me. I love you also, but it has been so very long."

"He is with us in spirit, meldis," Glorfindel said. "I miss him too. And yet my heart is here." He laid each of his hands on each one of them, before drawing them both to him in a close embrace.

**

The Marchwarden of Lórien had his own headaches. Much of the joy had gone out of his service, since the Lord and Lady departed. Amdír was...Amdír. An ellon of Doriath, as had been Oropher who had been asked to assume rule of the Greenwood directly to the east, from his fortress at Amon Lanc. He might be a lowly soldier, but he had heard enough of the rumors from his King's counselors. They trusted the Noldorin elves scarce more than they trusted Sauron himself. This, Haldir knew, was deeply misplaced. Amdír should know better; had not the rule of the Lady and her Lord emphasized this enough? One of the House of Finwë, wed to another ellon of Doriath?

Sadly, Haldir shook his head. Prejudices in the face of what was developing...no good would come of it. He worried, too. He had never been to Mordor, but Men of the West had come to their woods, bearing news. The Marchwarden had asked his own questions, privately, after the King had given his audiences. About the terrain, about the land itself. The environs around Minas Ithil and Minas Anor were not forests, or heavily vegetated. These were river plains, places where the ground could run bare or worse yet, to marshes. He worried, deeply, about their equipment. Their preparedness.

The fighting gear of the Galadhrim was not of heavy armor, designed to deflect concentrated assault. They wore light leather, allowing for free movement through glen and canopy. The grey of their cloth helped them blend in...but that implied something with which to blend. It was not what Glorfindel of Imladris wore; plate material that could deflect arrows and spears. He shook his head.  _ Glorfindel. _ "I hope you are well, my friend. All of you. It has been too long since I was permitted to leave these lands, but a week does not pass that I do not pray for all of you." The whispered words left his lips with an air of sorrow; the trees far above did not acknowledge the elf's lamentations. Turning, he moved off to seek his brothers, his captains; there was much still to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the geographical information (distances, etc) has been derived with the help of "The Atlas of Middle Earth" by Karen Fonstad. For all practical purposes, 'a league' in Middle Earth is three miles or 4.8 km. There is some dispute about this (what else is new), and a scholarly discussion on the topic here: http://askmiddlearth.tumblr.com/post/99488083026/units-of-measurement-in-middle-earth  
> Any way you slice it, Middle Earth was a very big place.


	11. Aeglir a Duin

So much of it was as Glorfindel had said, not that Estelwen wished him to be right. They did exit their valley out of the High Pass, making their way down to cross the stone bridge at the Old Ford. Had they continued east, they would have traversed the dwarf-path known as the Old Forest Road....but their passage from the valley alone covered fifty leagues and needed many, many days for the massive numbers of troops, supplies and support staff to wind their way down to and across the Anduin. The seneschal had explained that in the months previous to their departure, Gil-galad ordered the river crossing at the Old Ford widened and strengthened, to aid them.

Estelwen simply...observed. In perfect health and better fitness than ever before, thanks to Glorfindel's insistence on her physical training, she walked alongside Erestor armored as was he, though not to the extent the soldiers were. The seneschal had insisted they both be fitted with breastplates, with additional protective leather pieces over their clothing. Silver ornaments at their brows denoted the rank of herself and her husband, and Estelwen wore both a sword fitted to her stature as well as several knives; her blond protector also required that she and her husband bear no fewer than a half dozen of these instead of just one. When they traveled, she spent most of her time resting her hand on Erestor's arm, thinking how strange it was to have her love at her side. Since the return journey from Lórien more than a thousand years previous, she had not left their valley refuge.

Many duties fell on their shoulders. Thankfully, those responsibilities extended only to the needs of their own people. Tallying, counting, subtracting items of inventory...it would be headache-inducing under the best of circumstances. Their Lord had been adamant; their warriors were not to march on ahead. Fighters accompanied supply wagons and support staff in measured numbers; Sauron knew of their coming. Scouts had seen orc movements, but not a one had dared to attack; the might of their combined armies was simply too great.

And the High Pass, Cirith Forth en Andrath, was not the only means by which they crossed the Misty Mountains. Gil-Galad elected to bring a portion of his forces over the Redhorn Pass; the one Estelwen herself had traveled over Caradhras accompanied by Glorfindel and Haldir. Frankly, she was not saddened in the least to take the (to her mind) kinder route.

Most of three weeks elapsed; they covered between three and four leagues most days. The peak of Fanuidhol gradually rose in the distance. "Look," she pointed out to Erestor. "Not so far past there lies the Golden Wood. Perhaps we will at last see our friends. At the very least we will meet with the High King's army, for their road will have brought them near to the borders of the woods of the Galadhrim."

"I forget sometimes you know these lands," he confessed. The journey had been something of a challenge for him thus far; he had not lived outside of civilization for this length of time since his initial journey from Lindon to Imladris. During that passage he had been cared for, guarded, as an honored charge of the High King on that trip. Coddled, if he was to be honest.  Mostly he recalled sleeping under the stars, learning rudimentary food preparation, and drinking in every word the ellyn with him spoke about the lands through which they passed. Then as now, he thirsted for knowledge, and had asked many questions.

"'Know' would be a very generous term," Estelwen admitted. "There is only what I learned from Glorfindel and Haldir in my one big walk to and from my assignment. Which mostly amounted to, I will never be anywhere near as proficient as them in the wilderness."

"But I am glad you are not them," he said lovingly. "Can you imagine them listening to me as you do, or discussing our occupation? Glorfindel would become an alcoholic and Haldir...poor Haldir, I am not certain what he would do but it could not possibly be good."

Laughing, she caressed his hand. "True enough. How are you faring, Erestor? I have not wished to disturb your thoughts, these past many days. At least, when we have had thoughts to disturb; there has been much to do."

"Well enough," he smiled down at her. Estelwen shivered, just a little bit. Erestor was impossible to take for granted. That face, that smile, only for her out of all the ellith in Arda. Her good fortune struck her every day, that the ellon of her dreams truly loved her. "Estelwen?"

"I am considering how fortunate I am to have you. There are still occasions on which I cannot believe...us."

The exquisite face lit up with happiness that needed no explanation. He drew breath to speak but was interrupted. "Counselors, the Lord Elrond wishes to see you once we have stopped." A young soldier breathlessly delivered the message.

"Of course," Erestor replied to him. "We will come." Just as breathlessly, the poor ellon ran off again.

"Is he even of age?" Estelwen frowned at the retreating form. 

Erestor frowned. "I do not know, but if he is not, we are hardly in a position to send him home to his mother. He would be Glorfindel's responsibility, ultimately. Perhaps your observation provides the reason he is being used as a courier."

Nodding slowly, she made a mental note to...keep observing.

**

Some hours of daylight yet remained when they halted to make camp. Privately, Estelwen approved, from the lofty place of her solely academic knowledge. In her early days of friendship with Glorfindel, and after their intimacy began, she often had asked him questions about military strategy. Principles of warfare. The execution of military operations. It might seem contradictory given her stature and gender, but always she had possessed a rather keen interest in how war was waged, even as she had hoped never to actually witness it. 

Apparently that hope was to be dashed, but she thought highly of what she perceived--that their march down the riverbanks was being taken at a measured pace, designed not to leave those who would be asked to fight bone-weary at the end of their road. Not to mention, their slower pace gave opportunity for those the host passed by to set aside their occupations and join the armies. Strangely enough, word reached the commanders that all of those wishing to aid their cause had been harassed by orcs, and these same ones now saw an opportunity not only for revenge but to strike perhaps a final blow against their tormentors.  

So it was unsurprising to see a tall man departing Elrond's tent, when Erestor and Estelwen approached. He stopped for a moment, surprised to see such a small and lovely female elf, but had the good manners not to stare or linger.

**

"You are to take command in my stead, Erestor. This will only be for a few days."

Estelwen immediately bit the inside of her cheeks. Hard. It was the only means by which to keep her expression professionally neutral while the play of emotions raced across her husband's face. A pregnant silence ensued, before Glorfindel erupted in good-natured chuckles from behind them and stepped into the main room from his hiding spot behind a flap of canvas.

"I am proud of you, Erestor. I now owe Elrond one of my rations of wine. I bet that you would, in fact, allow some sound of distress to escape your lips--and you did not." Their friend, who they had not seen aside from catching sight of him in the distance, clearly enjoyed every minute of it.

Erestor cast a sideways glance at Glorfindel while Estelwen felt her cheeks flushing against the need to erupt into laughter now that the corners of their Lord's mouth were also twitching.

"I think I might owe that ration of victory wine to Erestor here," Elrond smiled. "Forgive me, my faithful one. I will confess I could not resist the temptation to go along with this little game, though the command itself is in earnest. I need to press on ahead of the main alliance with a smaller but still significant division. For we expect that the host of Durin's folk will move down the Dimrill Dale and into the open lands on the way to the river. We want to greet them, and ensure their escort through to Caras Galadhon is a welcoming one.

"Soon we will pass into the curve of the Anduin, and we will make encampment. The elves of Oropher will meet us in this region, as will those under Amdír. We will cross back over with the aid of the Galadhrim. At least, that is my optimistic hope," he smiled.

Estelwen could not help but frown. "May I ask, Lord Elrond, how it is you are crossing to the west shore in the first place?"

"I see someone has studied the available maps in detail," he noted approvingly. "The man you likely saw just departing here; he is a member of one of two families that operate a raft ferry. It will save a great deal of time and bother. I travel with a guard of perhaps fifty."

The chief counselor's eyes tracked to the seneschal, who placidly returned his gaze. "And Lord Glorfindel? Will he remain here or accompany you?"

"The latter," Elrond replied. "Though I place you in authority, Erestor, it is with the aid and guidance of your wife. I have also asked counselor Bercalion to remain near. Really, there should be little to do. Only the ordinary management of necessities, scout and guard reports, and the occasional woodsman or ellon that appears from the surrounding landscape wishing to join our efforts. You already know what to do, in all these instances."

"Yes," Erestor had to admit reluctantly. "Lord Glorfindel, who will act in your stead?"

"No one, exactly. Gildor has been appointed my captain for this campaign, and will manage any actual need of commanding soldiers in the event of unforseen trouble. However I thought that you might not mind that it will be Alagos' responsibility to come to you with daily reports." The seneschal's smile was especially kind for Estelwen. Glorfindel admired the degree to which she had controlled her maternal love, and given Alagos the freedom to pursue his budding military career and maximize his considerable talents. Many ellith could not say the same.

"Thank you, Lord," Estelwen murmured humbly. She did not look at Glorfindel, lest her expression fail to mask her feelings.

"I would like it if all of you would dine with me," Elrond offered. "At least for me it would be a nice...change."

"I think I speak for all of us that we would be glad to accept," Erestor responded. "We will complete our duties and return at sundown?"

A pleased expression graced their Lord's face. Elrond was a very handsome ellon, Estelwen thought. Maybe not so much to her tastes as Erestor or Glorfindel, but...yes, still very attractive. She hoped, so much, that they would all come through this, and find better times ahead.

"May I have a brief word in private, Lord Glorfindel?" Estelwen asked. Elrond smiled, and politely motioned Erestor outside to explain some other matters that had just occurred to him. 

"Yes?" Glorfindel asked, amused. He could take a few guesses at what she wished to say, though he was intelligent enough to wait and hear.

Estelwen approached close to him, not wishing to be overheard. Seeing this, he did her the courtesy of kneeling down; even so, she spoke very softly, barely above a whisper into his ear. "Thank you, Glorfindel. You are too tall and I have no ladder here. I will not keep you. It is only that during our walk south, I have been reflecting. My thoughts turned often to Haldir and his long absence. And silence. I sought to answer why this might be the case. While I do not wish to believe this, neither can I rule it out. You will go nearest their realm, melethron. I offer you this: What if our Haldir has not been heard from because it has been forbidden to him? I have felt misgivings, concerning what I have learned since the start of this process. It disturbs me deeply, that our Dwarf friends have responded with greater enthusiasm than our woodland kin." She shook her head. "I want this to amount to my own private, foolish musings. But I felt compelled to say this to you, before you depart. I appreciate your listening to me."

Glorfindel withdrew his head from being so close so that he could turn to look at her. All of his guesses had proven wildly off the mark. Keen eyes drank in her face hungrily. "And here I had hoped on some level that this was merely a ruse to steal a kiss," he smiled crookedly. They were beyond all pretense. "I will weigh your comments carefully. At the very least, they will be in my thoughts. I will watch, and listen. You are very wise; I will not discount your conclusions, Estelwen, though I equally hope you are wrong. Though...even I know that kings can and do demand such measures. I do not think I need to explain that Turgon of Gondolin did the same to me. To live in the Hidden City under his rule was to forsake the outer world."

"No, you do not. But...this is not Beleriand, and I am worried for Haldir and his brothers, and all the friends I made there. As for the other, I will gladly kiss you if you can tell me that no one is near to see."

"We are alone," he smiled.

Softly, tenderly, she claimed his mouth, her tongue seeking to twine with his. "You too have my heart, golden Lord." Estelwen removed the necklace the Lady gave her so long ago. "I want you to wear this, and do not argue or protest. It was given to me in promise of hope. Take it now, in hope for our errand, for all free peoples, and for our friends. I cannot be with you as much as I would wish, and neither can Erestor. This is something of us, to keep with you."

Glorfindel's lips parted, as the beautiful beryls in the form of an iris were placed around his neck. "It is not quite a golden flower, but it will have to suffice." Estelwen kissed his forehead. "Blessings, that I hope you will extend to our dear Haldir if the chance arises."

"I will," he whispered, momentarily overwhelmed at the expression of love. His hand closed around the ornament. "You will tell Erestor....?" he asked. 

"Everything," she promised him. Mouthing the words 'I love you,' Estelwen turned to seek her husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Old Ford was one of many interesting tidbits on the road to Mordor. It crossed the Anduin about forty miles downriver from the Carrock, and by the Third Age had ceased to exist. Gil-galad did indeed order its reinforcement/improvement for the passage of the Last Alliance.


	12. Amdír

Glorfindel and Elrond walked on in silence at the center of the formation that surrounded and protected them. Despite their numbers, they moved silently south toward the city of the Galadhrim, watching and listening for any signs of Dúrin's folk. There were none, but this did not diminish their hope that the Dwarves were not far away. The same eagerness held true for wishing to encounter the army of the Elven-king Gil-galad. His troops went provisioned lightly in order to move swiftly through the wilderness, and had first seen the slower supply caravans safely out of the valley. Travelling west through Hollin, they would then traverse the Redhorn Pass. Confident of making great speed, they planned to meet up with the rest of their forces near Caras Galadhon. The bulk of Elendil's army had accompanied the elves, acting as a massive rear guard. Imladris had provided the fewest soldiers but the greatest amount of the resources that would support their alliance.

On the second day they slowed their pace and walked with their standard held high; the heraldic device of Imladris. Long ago, Elrond had chosen an emblem--the star of his sire Eärendil against its field of midnight blue, but surrounded by flowing swirls of two differing lighter blues instead of the black diamond border used by his father. These cyans were meant to represent the forces of nature in their refuge; the water of the many falls and the mighty Bruinen, plus the skies above. Glorfindel liked to look upon the banner; he was proud to serve under it. Fondly, he thought of its (not accidental) similarity to the emblem of the High King; white stars emblazoned on a field of deep indigo.

When the sun drew overhead to noon, they walked quite near to the border of the trees. As expected, a patrol of the elves of Lórien came forward to meet them. It did not take long to see that at their head strode Rúmil, who then approached Elrond and Glorfindel. He went down on one knee, head bowed, and bid them welcome. It pained the golden Lord, to recall a very different greeting he had been given by this same ellon, so very long ago.

"Captain!" hissed one of the much younger Galadhrim behind him. "If the King were to know if this..."

Rúmil rose, and turned to the warrior. "Then I will be at your mercy that he not find out, Forodir," he said mildly. "I cannot fail to greet these esteemed ellyn of Imladris as my heart bids me, for I owe them a debt I can never repay." He turned his attention back to Lord Elrond and Glorfindel. "I bid you welcome here by the authority of King Amdír, ruler of the Golden Wood," he said evenly but with a tinge of sadness in his voice that he did not attempt to hide. "Our scouts inform us that both the Dwarf-folk and the army of the northern Elf-king will have largely assembled here within the next two days; they are but some hours behind you. We will begin the process of assisting you to cross the great river not long after their arrival; it will take time. In the meanwhile I am to bring you to my Lord the King, and see to it that your escort is housed and given refreshment."

"Thank you Rúmil," Elrond replied with great sincerity. "We are much obliged to your King and to you, for this hospitality."

The ellon hesitated as if he wished to say more, and thought better of it. He did greet Glorfindel with a warrior's embrace, before turning to lead them back. Re-forming ranks, the elves of Imladris followed their hosts, a few of whom brought up the rear. Glorfindel and Elrond exchanged the briefest of glances, and already Estelwen's words rang in his ears. While he did not know what, it already seemed that something was amiss.

**

The soldiers were taken to the barracks which had plenty of room for them, but the seneschal and Lord Elrond were led to the Great Talan. On the way up, Glorfindel risked speaking very softly to Rúmil, who alone led them by now. "How are your brothers?"

"There is much I wish to say to you," the Captain said in barely a whisper. "But not here. It would be unwise." 

Another subtle glance of concern exchanged between Elrond and his seneschal, and nothing further was said. Rúmil climbed on, until they reached the former seat of Galadriel and Celeborn. Glorfindel thought it both looked and felt...wrong, without the Lord and Lady. They first beheld Amdír. Next to him sat his queen, her bearing tense but her expression otherwise schooled to neutrality. She was fair in appearance, her hair a soft golden brown. A gown of grey fell to her ankles, with a silver shawl, and there were no ornaments save her ring of marriage and the golden circlet at her brow.

The King was a...different story. Pale blond hair and hazel-eyed, Amdír wore a crown of mellyrn leaves bound by a band of gold; a single adamant blazed at the center. His cloth was rich and wondrous; all the colors of the forest in autumn wove together and shimmered. It seemed rather clear that much as among many kinds of birds, his queen dressed to allow her husband the glory of his appearance while minimizing her own. Elrond bowed low as was appropriate in deference to another Elven King, and Glorfindel followed his example precisely.

"Elrond of Imladris, we meet at last," Amdír said in a pleasing enough tenor voice. "And soon we march to war." A certain languor suffused his tone as he studied them.

"I bring the greetings and friendship of my people, my Lord," Elrond smiled in his usual entirely proper and genteel manner, "and our thanks for your hospitality."

"My Lord?" Amdír asked, amused. "I would have thought another would hold that honor, in your eyes." The tiniest hint of danger lurked in his voice. Glorfindel did not miss that the queen glanced nervously at her spouse.

"It is the title of honor used for all who rule as king over a people, whether elves or men, King Amdír. We both know that King Ereinion is indeed the Lord to whom I answer. If I have made a mistake, I ask your pardon." Elrond's sentiments were sincere, spoken with humility.

"Do not mind my sense of humor," Amdír replied with a casual wave of his hand. "We are in our final preparations. I am quite sure obedient Rúmil has informed you of our intentions once the other forces begin to arrive?"

"Yes," Elrond answered, deeply disturbed at the barbed words but hiding this well.

"Then we will see each other again, soon." A dismissive gesture followed; the two from Imladris bowed once again and retreated with propriety. 'Obedient Rúmil,' waited for them below the Great Talan, his eyes cast down at the insult he had been offered very much within the range of his hearing. He led them through the forest, wordlessly, until they reached a talan.

"This is Haldir's, home," he explained quietly. "I do not believe he is here but I wish to speak to you privately. He would not begrudge us this; my own talan is much further away."

They ascended, Glorfindel feeling more filled with misgivings each moment he spent in this forest. Rúmil entered first, drawing the curtain aside, and felt stunned to see his brother seated at his table. "Haldir? Glorfindel and Lord Elrond of Imladris are with me. And.....what?" Catching sight of his brother, his mouth hung open in disbelief. He turned to his friends of old. "Lord Elrond, please, can you help him?"

"Help him with what?" Glorfindel said, pushing past both of them to see Haldir for the first time in many centuries. The first response was shock, to see the bruised cheek and eye. But when he moved around the unclothed chest to see the angry stripes left from a lash, he burned with rage. "Haldir, who did this? And why?"

The Marchwarden smiled crookedly. "Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel. Welcome to my humble home. Are we truly alone, Rúmil?" he asked softly. 

Frowning but returning outside to examine all sides of the mallorn tree, he confirmed their privacy to his brother. Elrond had already found a cloth and clean water, and busied himself dabbing at the margins of the worst wounds to which debris had become adhered.

"This is the price to be paid for angering the King," Haldir said unrepentantly. He looked up at his guests and his sibling. "Our warriors are not prepared. Not as they need to be. Not for a war like I know this one will be. The armor of the Galadhrim is inadequate. They might as well wear none at all," he shook his head. "And for speaking this truth to my King and refusing to recant in the face of his denial and argument, I was deemed insubordinate and punished. I  _ had _ to say it, Glorfindel," Haldir said miserably. "They are my troops, my warriors, that will go to fight. I had to try."

"Haldir," Elrond interjected, completely appalled. "This is...barbarism. You have no need to endure this treatment. Abandon him. I think I need not tell you that we would welcome you with open arms."

The pale blond head shook No. "I cannot. I have sworn an oath to serve him, and I am bound by my honor." His voice was laden with misery. "It was not like this in the very beginning," he said, wincing slightly as the raw wounds were cleansed. "Amdír seemed good, capable. Willing to listen to counsel from those of us in positions of responsibility. But these last many centuries...." his voice faded. "There is something the matter. It is as if his reason has departed, and a cynical paranoia now lives in its place. We are forbidden to leave or send word to loved ones outside this forest. For a long while now, there has only been living in isolation, guarding our borders, and doing as we are commanded." He snorted. "I am committing treason even to have this conversation, so where is my honor, precisely? I know not, any longer. I am sorry, that you had to find me like this. I knew you would arrive eventually but...I have been waylaid, shall we say, this last week."

"He ordered you beaten and jailed?" Glorfindel asked, still in disbelief.

Haldir smiled crookedly, and again shook his head to the negative. "Amdír administers his own punishments, when they are of this sort.  _ After _ I was jailed, was this done, that I might reflect longer on my transgression."

"Valar," Elrond said, completely unable to imagine beating one of his kindred. "Haldir, I think I need not tell you that I would not speak so freely were it anyone but you. While I keep my own counsel, I am not ignorant that you share a closeness with my seneschal. I certainly have every intention of informing the High King of what is occurring inside of this realm, but what can be done about it is another matter. We cannot countermand the orders of another ruler inside of his own kingdom, but this is..." he rubbed his temples. "I cannot say it is unprecedented, sadly, but this is behavior we do not precisely smile upon. Is there anyone to whom he will listen? Anyone he views as a peer?"

By now, Rúmil had brought a small wooden box of healing ointment he found among his brother's supplies, and handed it to Elrond with a hopeful expression. It was gratefully accepted.

"He has had correspondence with King Oropher, for our patrols were responsible for receiving those messages. But what is said? To that I am not privy. Once or twice the Woodland King has come here; I have seen their prince. His name is Thranduil. Other than this...I am sorry, I know little. At the end of the day I am just another soldier, albeit a highly placed one."

"Is Amdír skilled as a warrior?" Glorfindel wished to know.

"I think so, yes," Haldir answered carefully. "He seems to have fought in some of the wars in Beleriand. According to him, he was a noble in the service of Elu Thingol until he elected to make his way to these shores. He is more than capable with weapons himself. I will be honest, I know little about him. We accepted his rule without question since it was the arrangement under which the Lady and Lord departed these woods." A very long pause ensued. "How I wish they were yet here."

"More treason, brother? You are becoming a bad influence." Rúmil laid a careful hand on Haldir's shoulder, paying attention to avoid touching any of his wounds. Already he had a clean bandage of linen at hand to cover the injuries, when Elrond finished tending them.

"Do not joke about that aloud, Rúmil. Even here. I could not manage, were the same to befall you. I am proud of you, for how you have held yourself in check. Whatever else may happen, I am not ignorant of the things he says to provoke you."

"'Obedient Rúmil’?" Elrond guessed. 

"On a good day, yes," the warrior answered. "That is one of many. It bothers me less than it does Haldir and Orophin, I think. I have learned a lifetime lesson about the high price of failing to govern one's darker emotions, as you all well know. What are a few insults, compared to keeping my integrity?" He grinned. "Do you know, I still ask myself what Estelwen might wish me to do, when such small trials arise? So foolish of me, and yet I find I cannot help it." He shrugged. "Amdír is my King who commands me, but he does not rule my mind, or my heart. And I have also learned that time brings change. I was taught patience; it was a gift of the Lady to me. I will not cast that aside for one who...one who I deem unworthy." The last words were barely whispered.

"Wonderful," Glorfindel grumbled. "From the sound of it we are to fight alongside a mentally unstable monarch. He is wed, I see. Has he offspring?"

"The prince, Amroth," Haldir answered. "He is well-liked, but he too lives rather in the shadow of...of..." he grasped helplessly for an appropriate choice of words.

"That?" Glorfindel offered, some of his characteristic humor seeping into his voice.

A snort of laughter escaped both brothers. 

"Oh, I have missed you, gwador," Haldir chuckled. "You are as rain falling on a dry land."

"I should escort you to your quarters soon," Rúmil cautioned Glorfindel and Elrond. "It would be wiser not to attract attention to our visit here, though I am loath to end this. You cannot possibly know what such company means to us."

"I rather think I  _ can _ ," Elrond deadpanned, finishing winding the bandage around Haldir's back and chest. Rúmil helped his brother's arms into a tunic with closures in the front. "If your brother can unwind the dressings, and apply more ointment at about this same time a day from now, by two days' hence your wounds should be largely healed, Haldir. I leave you with my blessing and..." he shook his head in frustration. "I mean it. If this gets too bad, I beg you, come to us. Better to be an oathbreaker than bound to one who has lost reason. I somehow doubt your words of fealty included agreeing to this."

"No," Haldir smiled. "They did not. But neither did they exclude it. Do not worry about me, Lord Elrond. I will find my way through. We all will. And soon enough, we will leave our forest, to whatever end."

Glorfindel now spoke. "Lord Elrond, Rúmil, I will meet you down below in a moment. I was asked to convey a message privately to Haldir." 

Both ellyn withdrew immediately. Once they were below, the golden Lord knelt, and turned Haldir toward him carefully. "Estelwen asked me to relate this, on behalf of herself and Erestor," he explained in a whisper. "Once again, she was correct; our meldis feared something like this had befallen you." He leaned in to carefully kiss Haldir's mouth. Tongues mingled in a lingering kiss, as tears came to the seneschal's eyes. The contact ended much too soon. Touching foreheads, Glorfindel spoke once more, before rising. "Beautiful Haldir. Know that time and distance has not diminished our love." With so much reluctance, he forced himself to turn and leave. Glorfindel did not look back, knowing that doing so would cause him to remain, even though staying was not an option. He was thus spared the sight of tears coursing down Haldir's cheeks. Alighting at the base of the talan, the blond crookedly smiled to his companions. "Where to next?"


	13. Berennyr

"Is that smoke in the distance?" Estelwen asked, uncertain. 

More than a weary week had elapsed since their combined forces moved forward, assembled for the first time. She looked a short distance ahead, where the renowned of men, elves and dwarves purposefully strode alongside one another. Their standard bearers preceded their ranks, offering a colorful spectacle. Amdîr and Oropher walked together; tall, pale and proud. The leaders of Durin's folk marched with their heavily shod feet beating an audible rhythm; their names were unknown to her. Except of course that their King was Durin. They were  _ all _ named Durin, and she believed this one was Durin the fourth...but whether the Dwarf- king himself was among this company had not yet been determined or perhaps the dwarves had no intention of revealing this.  Isildur and Elendil, Kings of men, a son with his father sharing resemblance and noble bearing. Then Lord Elrond and the Elven High King Gil-galad, leaders of what remained of the Noldorin elves on these shores, though their realms were really too diversified to reference their numbers as being of only one lineage. 

These leaders appeared to discuss much amongst themselves; as one of Elrond's counselors the entourage of this esteemed company included her. Mostly she walked between Glorfindel and Erestor, though at times it was Gildor who paced nearby. Princes Amroth and Thranduil were not so far away; the latter displaying open curiosity as to the unusual presence of an elleth in their number. Amroth seemed very different from his counterpart in Oropher’s son. Strictly to herself, Estelwen wondered whether the lamps were lit but no one was at home, when it came to Amroth. Haldir was nowhere to be seen, to her great sadness. There were others, too many to count, of counselors, seneschals, advisors. She was glad enough of her own pragmatism, lest such lofty company seem overwhelming.

"It is," Glorfindel answered, keeping an eye on both her and Erestor as often as one could be spared. What enjoyment they had obtained from seeing their son regularly during Erestor's brief lordship over their forces (something about which he would forever be teased in private) faded swiftly in the face of the news their seneschal had brought from Haldir. Just on principle Estelwen now privately despised Amdír, though she of course accorded King Amdír and all the others tthe perfectly polished manners protocol required. Despite what happened she would never bring shame on Erestor or Elrond, regardless of her personal feelings.

"And what, precisely, is burning? The maps show the leagues ahead as grasslands, not particularly inhabited. There have been no storms to create lightning, nor can I think of--"

"Orcs," Gildor spat, near enough to overhear the conversation. "Orcs started the fires, to destroy. Destroy what? is the question. Were I to guess, they are burning the land to ruin it on our account. It is a common tactic they use, to raze anything that might be of worth to an advancing enemy. If they are not hurried, they will ruin anything and everything just on principle."

"Thank you for the information," Estelwen said to him. Everyone knew Gildor, but he was not an ellon she had ever spoken with at great length. "Then I take it these lands are uninhabited?"

"Perhaps not," Erestor said. "Before even you came to Imladris it was rumored the wives of the Onodrim were known to abide in these lands."

The diminutive elleth said nothing, but for a short time leaned a little more heavily on Erestor's arm. She had never seen one of these marvels of Eru's creation, and now wished to reflect on...this.

**

Smells of smoke on the shifting breezes greatly disturbed her sleep in the late hours. Erestor held her against him tightly. They had a small but private space in one of the command tents tonight, and both in their restlessness felt their need for each other growing. A sharp intake of breath from Erestor gave the only indication of Estelwen stroking him over his clothing, as her deft hands began to unwork the laces of their garments. Soon he was guided inside of his wife. By necessity their motions were slow, restrained--and most importantly, silent. What skills she possessed in the art of lovemaking were brought to bear, knowing that her mate could not afford to move as he would prefer. 

Her muscles gripped and squeezed him; his repeated pushes sharply pierced her core over and over. Finally she felt his body tensing and gave herself over to the pursuit of her own enjoyment. There would be soreness in the morning, from how forcefully he had strained into her, and she did not care. The tension, boredom, disturbances of the past many weeks had been enough. Precious few of those scattered among these armies had their mates at hand for this kind of relief, if they had mates at all. Even for those who did, the privacy to find some consolation via such little trysts was next to nil.

Their changed breathing patterns and thundering heartbeats were the only sign of their release and relief. Estelwen was too small to reach Erestor's mouth in this position; she had to content herself with caressing her husband's taut nipple through his tunic while she felt him take his pleasure. After, once he had carefully withdrawn...then she could adjust a little, and taste his rosy lips. "I love you," she whispered, carding her hands through his loosely braided hair. "No matter what, I love you."

Erestor returned her kisses hungrily. He too recognized the privilege, to find sexual gratification when so many others could not. But he also understood her psychological need, for he felt it too. The smoke in the air was the first indication that this was not merely a long march to nowhere. For the two of them, unaccustomed to war by accident or design, it was the first uncomfortable shadow of dread. A kind of fear, of what surely was to come. This was a recognition of that weakness, and a search for comfort with the other. Their distraction and preoccupation with each other contributed to their complete surprise, when they heard soft steps approach. 

The couple froze, knowing that under their shared blankets their clothing was in complete disarray...until a familiar scent and touch told Estelwen before anything else that this was Glorfindel. He lowered himself to sit near where their heads rested, while they raised themselves up on their elbows. Strong arms gathered up both of them; they felt themselves drawn together against his chest, their bodies lying relaxed in the space between his legs. No word was said aloud.

_ I felt you _ , they heard in their thoughts.  _ I cannot always come to you but when I am able, I will not leave you to wonder and worry about what you do not have a means to understand. The smoke indeed portends evil. The orcs have blacked these lands with fire, destroying crops we might have gleaned and fields that would have yielded grain for our aid. Worse yet, there is reason to believe that the females of the Onodrim, the entwives, were either destroyed or taken captive. Our scouts found the bodies of three who perished; charred and disfigured. Others were slain by arrows, and some locations tell of violent struggles on the part of large creatures.  _

_ Sauron's servants have trammeled the smaller streams to ensure that any water is now spoiled for use, knowing that this will deepen our difficulty now that we are about to turn from following the course of the Anduin. The enemy has long known of our coming. I hope you can find a way to prepare yourselves, for this will almost assuredly be one of the least of the atrocities we will witness. _

Erestor and Estelwen both held tightly to him, unashamed to accept this offered gift of solace. She was the first to respond.

_I know, Glorfindel, though that knowledge is not helping at the moment. I remember the accounts; I know what the enemy did to Celebrimbor and so many others who were made to suffer in ages past. I will reconcile myself, for I must. But...how are you doing this, my Lord?_ _This speaking in silence?_ Estelwen asked in her thoughts, uncertain how this worked. Of course she had read that elves had this ability, but this was her first experience. _You can hear me think?_

_ Yes, I can hear you, meldis.  _ He sighed, audibly. _ I have my eccentricities and both of you have lovingly indulged them for all the years of our closeness with each other. The truth is, I have begun to bond with both of you. If either of you have strong emotions, whether it be fear, joy, or something in between, I catch a hint of it, is how I suppose it is easiest to explain. _

Estelwen blinked, because suddenly many things about her golden friend and subtle changes perceived in him were placed in a context. While she was trying to form her next question, Erestor already had one of his own. Her husband's voice somehow also rang in her mind.

_ Is this...desirable to you, Glorfindel? Have we somehow caused this without it being welcome? Your freedom and independence have always been very important to you. _

The warrior held Erestor tighter, his chin resting lightly against the inky hair. _Well, I thought so too, until something  caused me to question that._ _I had an experience, awhile ago._ _Someone new wished to share my bed, and I assented as I most always have. Later that same night was when I came to your rooms for the first time, because I needed you. Needed to feel that I belonged with...you. I regretted the previous encounter, because it satisfied my lust but left my heart empty. Not just empty...there was more to it than that. And...I think this is all I feel I can say, at this time._

_ It will always be as you wish, Glorfindel, _ Estelwen reassured.  _ But...if we disturbed you...do you have need? _ Her hand traced to his groin, to find him aroused.

_ As you have already observed, this is a difficult place. Too many lie nearby. I will manage. _

_ No _ , Erestor said.  _ Let us ease you. There will be no sound. _

Glorfindel did not refuse or resist. Estelwen kissed and caressed him, and a short time later Erestor's warm mouth welcomed his emission. All tension and the outer world fell away, for a few precious moments. Moreover, he felt their blazing love for him, and thanked the creator for guiding him to these peerless spirits. This was a shining interlude of love and mutual support amidst uncertainty and far worse yet to come.  _ Thank you, more than I can say. But I cannot remain, soon the next scout report will arrive, and I must speak with those who have stood watch. Rest more, while you are able. _

Lulled and feeling better, they had just enough presence of mind to do something about their clothing before returning to sleep. Erestor curled around his wife, warming her. Seeing his loved ones at peace, Glorfindel returned to his duties.

**

For exactly the reason Gildor had stated a few days' earlier, their marches increased in speed and duration as they moved through what the men called 'the Brown Lands.' Their leaders had unanimously agreed to press on to the battle they would surely find. On a southeast diagonal they marched, once the leaders committed to their departure from the banks of the Anduin--and with it their fresh water supply. Everything that could hold water now did, and rationing was now in effect. Every manner of skin, jug and vessel was filled prior to their marching the final forty leagues that lay ahead.

Elendil and Isildur especially seemed to take heart, as they closed the distance to the lands of their kin. Though, it was not as if any needed encouragement to pick up the pace.  _ The Brown Lands were no longer brown, _ Estelwen thought as she wrinkled her sensitive nose against the pervasive reek of the newly burned spaces. All was scorched. What remained unburned, a patch here or a tuft there, stood out by way of contrast against the unrelieved sight of land ravaged by fire.

There was more than just this, though. Estelwen could see them now, the Ephel Dúath. Mountains of Shadow, they were named in the common language, and inside of the fortress of those mighty peaks dwelled their foe in his dark tower. With the sharp eyesight of all her people, Estelwen could see even at this great interval the clouds and dark that seemed to cling to the skies in the distance. Those were the times she felt her heart sinking, but the sight of Glorfindel and other seemingly fearless fighters nearby bolstered her courage.

Their evenings now were often spent near Lord Elrond. As of the last two nights, that included the company of the High King himself. Now that he could be observed regularly, it did not take her long to see what all the fuss was about, so to speak. Immediately and powerfully she felt herself favorably disposed toward Ereinion, who exuded a nobility and grace of bearing under duress that dwarfed those qualities that Lord Elrond himself had in not inconsiderable measure. He spoke of their errand with a solid grasp of reality, in contrast to some of the braggadocio she had heard from the brash tongue of King Amdír. (Of Oropher she could discern little, except that he seemed to generally agree with the assessments of his more dramatically inclined ally.)

Estelwen listened carefully, as did the many other counselors and military leaders in attendance. As their forces currently skirted north of Emyn Muil, a great deal of discussion was given to the geographical features of their ultimate destination. It was taken for granted that their encounter would occur at a place called Dagorlad. Battle-plain. This wide-open space, the scouts reported, had little to recommend itself except sparse vegetation. Otherwise, a flat expanse of grey soil and rock ranged before the gated pass of Cirith Gorgor, bordered to the north by a great marshland.

Elendil and Isildur both had expressed absolute confidence that Anárion would join with them there, coming from Minas Anor via north Ithilien. At first Estelwen frowned to hear this, mulling it over for many hours. Later, she related her misgivings on the subject to Erestor. But something had been forgotten, so closely guarded was their secret. "Palantíri, Estelwen," he informed as they conversed in a whisper. "They can communicate. Elendil brought the stone of Annúminas with him, in order to exchange tidings with his son. It is how the leaders know that Minas Ithil, Osgiliath and Minas Anor are secure--for the moment. However were we not enroute, they could not hold out forever. And yet I do not believe our enemy anticipated quite this level of response to his attack. It is my guess that he did not believe the races would unify in this manner."

Her brows knitted together. "Well that does rather add perspective," she muttered. "And not to change the subject, but I would like to see our son, sooner rather than later."

"I will ask Glorfindel, tomorrow, for I would like the same. I miss him, Estelwen. Though I suppose all parents everywhere say that."

"Probably," she snorted. "At least we have not smothered him. I am proud of us, for that."

"I feel the same," he said quietly. "More than that, I am so proud of him. I feel that he has been what I could not be."

"No pity party, husband, or I will deliver you to the Blond One of Renown for an adjustment of your thinking. Alagos might be the soldier you were not, but you are the scholar he likely never will be. Those comparisons are not helpful; I think you know that. Nor do we who love you see you as the sum of your weaknesses." She folded her arms over her bosom, chiding him. "Do you have any idea how many ellyn would give most anything to be you?"

Erestor smiled. "Be me? Well, apparently not, but I gain the sense you are about to elaborate." His arms opened to her in an offer of shared affection. Their marriage was in so many ways a practical one, based in deep friendship. There was little they felt they could not say to each other. If nothing else, they appreciated each other's honest insight, which was rarely withheld. That they still felt love, desire, and enjoyed physical passion after such a very long time together...they were fortunate, and they knew it. Many couples who shared their years had reached a stage of wedded companionship above all other aspects. Both felt that they probably owed much to their mutual partner. Glorfindel acted as a sort of glue between them, strengthening their bonds beyond what would be possible on their own.

"I will spare you the lecture," Estelwen smiled. "But think on my words, wise Master Erestor."

"You offer silence, the most powerful speech of all," he mused. "Whoever schooled you taught you well." A beautiful smile graced his exquisite face.

"Mmmm. And who might that have been?" With a contented sigh, she felt herself lifted into his arms. Her head burrowed into the crook of his neck, and for a moment it was possible to forget that the greatest struggle to have taken shape on these shores was but days away.


	14. Confidences

"How do you deal with it, Uncle Glorfindel?" Alagos asked. From time to time on this campaign his commander had taken him aside, to ensure that he was managing. The seneschal knew how easily most had forgotten the tender years of this ellon, by elven standards. He had risen to such high levels of achievement in combat training, but Glorfindel knew better than most that this meant nothing at all, in terms of his actual preparedness for fighting. Sparring against friends, comrades and teachers was quite different than killing lest one be killed. Alagos had yet to be battle-hardened.

"Deal with what, Alagos? There are so many questions you might be asking."

"True," the youth laughed. "My father would be most disappointed with me for the generality of my inquiry. What I meant to ask is, how do you deal with the uncertainty? I feel confident, eager to do my part. But I also wonder, will I be slain? I mean, it assuredly is possible; in war many die on all sides. And while I understand what will happen to me should that come to pass, it does not change that I do not want to be killed. There are hopes I have for the future, as do all. How do you keep yourself from being overcome by such thoughts?"

"Those are wise questions, and it speaks well of you, that you would consider these things. And the answer...will not help, I fear. You do your best, and accept that death may indeed be the outcome. But in that acceptance is a form of freedom. At least, that is how I describe it to myself. Never forget, Alagos, that courage is not the lack of fear. It is acknowledging the fear and moving forward to give one's best efforts in spite of the possibility for the worst outcome."

Alagos tilted his head. "I can use that," he said. "Though I suspect I will understand it in a far deeper sense after my first real day in battle. Is there more?"

"Well...what you mentioned about having hopes? We are fighting  _ for _ something. For the freedom of our lands, our ways. We are protecting our loved ones from evil and terror. Seeking to throw off an oppressor who cares for nothing besides conquest and power. We are defenders, and in this way we fight for ourselves as well. I too want a peaceful future. To return to my home, knowing that it is safe from such threats of harm. And to live with those that are most precious to me...these are the things that matter. Is there something you want? A future of which you dream? Those thoughts can give hope, which is a powerful balm against fear."

"I do. I have been seeing a special elleth, before we departed to come here. I did not dare speak of a betrothal, knowing the customs of our people and that this was now a time of war. But I have developed strong feelings for her and...when I return, I hope to have more," he said shyly.

"And have you been seeing her a little, or rather a lot?" Glorfindel could not resist asking. He usually knew of the pairings occurring in Imladris, and was quite surprised to learn of this. Perhaps his opinions on discretion in matters of love relationships had filtered down, to some good effect?

"I gave my virginity to her," Alagos blushed. "But I was not her first lover. She is so very beautiful, Glorfindel. My company was sought a great deal and...my greatest happiness was the time spent with her **.** She makes me feel alive like nothing else ever has." His eyes sparkled with emotion.

"Has she said that she loves you?" Glorfindel probed gently, understanding his nephew's inexperience. 

"No. I did not feel it was proper...I thought it would be uncouth to ask; that it might seem as though I were pressuring her to express her heart to me only in time for me to leave for war." He paused, looking down. "But I am sure that I love her. The warmth in my body, when I think about her...I would like to marry, Uncle. Be happy, as my emel and ada have been happy. I have deep respect for you, having chosen to remain single, but do not believe I am strong enough. I hope not to go through life alone. I want to love, and be loved in return." The purity of his spirit shone forth in every word, and Glorfindel fervently hoped that whoever Alagos' lover might be, that she understood the value of his heart. And yet his own honor prevented him from asking for her name; he could hardly keep his own lovers a secret yet request of others to reveal their partners. When Alagos identified his love then he would know, and not before.

"It does me good to know you have found someone," the seneschal smiled good-naturedly. "And that she can be the hope in your heart. I believe we fight better, when we know we fight for something."

"Thank you, Uncle. I know you have many duties; it means a great deal to me that you watch over me as you do."

Glorfindel kissed the crown of his head.  _ Oh, if you only knew, young one. I am in love with both of your parents, and another from whom I have long been parted. It is for them that I raise my sword. Better you find a partner in the ordinary way we are meant to, than the complexity in which I find myself trapped. And yet I desire no escape...  _ "I am always here for you, Alagos. I love you, and am very proud of you." He looked to the south as he spoke, and saw in the great distance a flaring glow of red that lit the clouds, and vanished just as quickly. Love. He hoped it would be enough; in the end it would be all they had.

**

Waves crashed against the jagged rocks below, as Galadriel pulled her shawl tighter against the wind. Turning from the sight of the restless ocean, smooth marble paths returned her to the small dwelling she occupied with Celebrían. Her daughter sat calmly, elaborately embroidering a length of fabric meant to serve as the hem of a dress.

"Mellyrn leaves?" the older elleth asked, amused.

"They are more to my liking than the tides or the sea-birds," her daughter smiled. "I will be honest, mother. I have never quite understood...this." She raised her arm that held the needle, encompassing with an elegant arc their entire abode in the otherwise sparsely inhabited haven of Edhellond. They had dwelled for countless years in this refuge on the Bay of Belfalas in the south-eastern lands of Gondor, at the juncture of Anfalas and Lebennin.

"There is a reason," Galadriel countered, taking a seat. 

" _ Always _ there is a reason," Celebrían retorted. "And always it is cryptic and veiled, just as was the explanation for why adar left us here. Do you know, mother, I am no longer an elfling? I have always respected that you and father have kept your own counsel concerning many things. But should it ever be the case that I am deemed worthy to understand the workings of the outer world, I would appreciate not being kept continually in the shadows."

For many long minutes, Galadriel considered the rebuke, searching her daughter's placid face. "I suppose that was deserved," she reflected. "Please understand that we did not intend this. The years went by and it just.."

"Happened," Celebrían finished. "Does that mean you will actually answer my questions? For if not, I would prefer that to be directly confirmed, as opposed to being given a few crumbs and an admonishment to be content."

"I can see this conversation is rather overdue. I am sorry, daughter. Truly. You are right; you have deserved better."

Celebrían smiled crookedly. "Well, you both taught me at least one thing: To speak boldly, without being disagreeable."

"Oh, daughter. We are of the House of Finwë, though you cannot fully now know what that means. If we have managed to avoid the 'disagreeable' part, that alone is a miracle most likely owed to your father's even temperament."

The two women locked gazes, before twinkling eyes gave way to smiles and outright laughter. There were layers upon layers of humor in that last statement, and they both knew it.

"Alright," Celebrían concluded. "My first question: We came here to sail west, mother. That was centuries ago. While it is true that none of the ships here has yet been completed in all that long time...we do not appear to be trying very hard to leave. Why? Why are we still here?"

"Because my path is not yet clear to me, is the simplest answer. I think you know that I was placed in care of something extraordinary; a precious creation meant to aid our people. And yet because of the power in the east, it cannot be used."

 

"Nana, I know of your ring. And I know of Sauron. I may not have been included in your councils and meetings but...bored elflings have ears. I know not to speak of it. I have never said a word. But if we are going to talk, please, let us talk. Plainly. No more veiled meanings."

Galadriel blinked, totally unprepared for this. "Somewhere, the Valar are laughing," she muttered, gazing at her daughter in disbelief, deflated. "Fine. Between the thing we are not speaking of and the power vested in me, I have a mirror. It is water, poured into a silver bowl, but then there is so much more. It lets me look. Here, there, everywhere. I cannot control what it shows me, but from what I can tell...it reveals possibilities. And the sum of what I have seen...my heart tells me not to leave these shores. That I have some part yet to play, as does your father. As do you," she frowned. 

"But at the same time, I am not supposed to be...there." Galadriel’s hand waved in the general direction of the north, toward their forest home so many hundreds of leagues distant. "Not back at our forest, not in Imladris. By now your father has reached Osgiliath. He left those weeks ago to walk a very long road. Along the river Ringló to Ethring, back south to Linhir, then east to Pelargir. Men loyal to Gondor then brought him north along with their own fighters, for he is enroute to a great battle. An alliance of elves, men of honor, and even some of Dúrin's folk will strike back at Sauron. Even now they approach the gates of Mordor, a host the like of which has not been seen since the Valar waged war against Morgoth himself in Beleriand and tore the lands asunder."

"You let adar go alone? How could you?" Celebrían looked at her mother, horrified.

"He is  _ not _ alone," she smiled. "And open strife is not for everyone. I am not without power, Celebrían. But my gifts are not meant for the sword and the field of battle. There is more than one kind of warfare. Do not underestimate your father; he is a great Lord of our people, a fearless warrior. He will be needed. If the mirror shows truly, our allies will have the victory but at a painful cost. Your father is a Sindar of Doriath, wed to a Noldorin cousin of the High King. He is in a position to unite, not divide. Since we left, all has not gone well in Lórien. Amdír falters, and Oropher goes along with his foolishness. My lot, for now, is to wait and see."

Celebrían paused. Her next question came in a voice that quavered, though it tried so very hard not to. "Will Elrond survive?"

Galadriel looked down. "Yes. But he will not escape unscathed. Onto his broad shoulders will fall many burdens, the weight of which he cannot possibly imagine."

"He has greatness in him," her daughter insisted quietly.

"Yes, he does." Her blue eyes gazed out into the interior of the harbor. "And he loves you very much."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's going on here? Above all things messy about the Second Age, the history of Galadriel and Celeborn is arguably the biggest mess of all. The existence of this Peace and War series owes its existence to my learning that Galadriel didn't just move to Lórien, set up shop, and stay there until after the War of the Ring. But, what did happen is open to massive conjecture because Tolkien himself apparently never settled on the matter...and this sort of indecision is how fanfiction is born. So, I worked with a passage from the Unfinished Tales, that states the following: "...at some later time [there is no indication of the date] Galadriel and Celeborn together with Celebrían departed from Imladris and went to the little-inhabited lands between the mouth of the Gwathló and Ethir Anduin." Now, that sounds great until a look at a map reveals the described area encompasses all of the realm of Gondor! That's a really big place. But it continues..."There they dwelt in Belfalas, at the place that was afterwards called Dol Amroth..." However, this is a version of their story that has Amroth not as King Amdír's son, but as the son of Galadriel and Celeborn! Oh, Professor, you could not make up your mind! So, I made up mine. I had the three of them travel near but not actually to Dol Amroth. The entire reason for their departure was based on the idea that "the sea-longing grew so strong in her (Galadriel) that she determined to leave Lórinand and to dwell near the sea." And yet at the same time, Galadriel also knew on some level that as a ring-bearer, it was her duty to remain until Sauron was conquered. This was when I discovered Edhellond. Just looking up information on the place-names of all these map locations throughout Gondor yielded its own sort of story, but I was more enchanted by the notion of them dwelling at an elven haven (harbor) built by the Sindar who had arrived in the First Age. Edhellond was the point of departure for many of those who left Middle Earth after the fall of Eregion, after Sauron ruined the place.


	15. Dagorlad, Mordor

{S.A. 3434}

"We will relocate the camp tomorrow, moving inside of the Black Land," Glorfindel said woodenly. His golden hair hung in braids spattered with dark ichor, and his fair countenance was soiled with grime. "You must pack up everything you can, for the wagons will be readied at sunrise."  
Erestor nodded numbly, somewhat at a loss for...everything. They had remained here, well behind the lines of battle. Safe. For not days or weeks but months, while the terrible battle raged on. Every day it was their lot, he and Estelwen, to compile the statistics. Record the names of those who fell. Coordinate the excursions for the soldiers that would march into North Ithilien, to replenish the water-wagons. The orcs and other creatures soon learned to attack these supply lines, meaning that greater protection had to be afforded to these ones, diverting them from the main conflict.

"It will be prepared as you instruct," Estelwen said softly, more able to find words. "Can you sit for a moment?"

Glorfindel's eyes, formerly so soft and full of love, glittered with hardness now, but he lowered himself to a chair, letting that be his answer. Turning her back for a moment, Estelwen moistened a cloth with a small amount of her precious ration of water, and brought it to him, to begin cleaning his face. Just a little. The moment he felt the touch of it on his skin, his arm reached up to immobilize her wrist. "You should not be wasting water on such a foolishness. I would think you would know better, Estelwen."

Her arm relaxed in his grip; to resist him physically was a complete waste of effort. "I am still free and have choices, Glorfindel. And it is my choice to use some of my own water for this as a gesture of thanks and respect to you, who can do what I cannot. I would ask you to please release me. I am sorry if you do not approve, but your opinion cannot undo my action. The water has been used. Do you prefer that it was done in vain?"

His blue eyes clouded, and he removed his hand. "That was very churlish on my part. I am sorry for my words. Do...whatever you were...doing."  
Erestor turned away, so that the tears that streaked down his cheeks would go unseen. He hated this. He hated every minute of it, of this place. Of them being here. Of them needing to be here. What this was doing to his friends, his family, his people. That it was necessary could not matter, deep in his heart. Only Estelwen and the help he had been given held him together now. In his wisdom, Elrond had provided Estelwen with a large supply of the medicine for Erestor’s anxiety, and sometimes they needed to make use of it. He was trying his best, as they all were--but it was the little scenes, like the one he had just witnessed, that confirmed in his mind that they were all stretched nearly to the breaking point.

Quickly enough Estelwen had much of the filth removed from Glorfindel's skin; enough to cause her to feel better for what she had done. When she turned, though, and saw Erestor facing away from them, busy with something in a corner containing nothing of any importance--he might fool the seneschal, but not her. Please, could you find it in yourself just to hug him? He tries so hard to hide that he suffers, both from his emotions and a sense of inadequacy he can never fully erase. But if you have to return I underst--

The warrior's arms wrapped around his dark friend; immediately a keening cry of spiritual pain tore from Erestor, who could no longer govern his feelings. Estelwen rubbed her temples just for a moment, and went to prepare a dosage of the medicine for her husband. Sometimes he would refuse her and there would be...a disagreement, but with Glorfindel here she could be assured of getting it into him. The packing she could finish on her own, though it might mean rest would come a few hours later. With silent communication, her golden friend was placed in charge of dispensing the apothecary--it brought her relief, when she saw his nod of assent that he would do this.

Muffled sobs came from the corner of the tent. Elrond chose that moment to appear in the entrance, and Estelwen bodily hauled her Lord by the arm right back outside. "Forgive me, but as you can see..." her lips pressed together in disapproval. "There is a moment of struggle going on. He will be better soon. The medicine helps. Crying helps him too, for a time. I am...sorry."

"I understand," Elrond said. "I know what it is for him to be here, better than most. He carries on in his own way, as do we all. That was why I came, to ensure you understood. We have gained a victory, of sorts. Our forces broke through the gates. Sauron is driven into his tower. A great number of his fighters are defeated. Though it was at great cost..." he shook his head bitterly. "I am certain word reached you long ago that Amdîr was lost, Estelwen. As was Oropher. They would not ally themselves with Gil-galad."

Her lips parted. "I am sorry to hear this news." That her statement was only mostly true did not bother her as much as it perhaps should have. "What happened?" The question really meant, of course, 'did Haldir survive?'

The Elflord turned his gaze to the southeast. "Amdír's forces, too few and ill-equipped, were driven easily toward the marshes, separated from the main host who might have offered better protection. And Oropher..." he trailed off, still trying to process what he had seen. "He led a lone charge against the enemy, rather than wait for the High King's command to attack. While brave, it was...foolish in the extreme. He did not survive. The prince and what of their forces battled through did so on raw desperation alone."

"And Thranduil now...?" Her head tilted in query.

"Yes. Amroth is...not yet in a place of coping," he said delicately, doing his best to keep condemnation of any sort from his tone. "Thranduil now has the command of all the silvan elves, at least for now...It is most...unfortunate. Though, there is one bright light. As you know, Celeborn joined us, appearing here and there at need. He has been able to offer Thranduil some counsel, and support. Eru knows he will need it." Sadness filled his expression. "Anyway. Tomorrow. Relocation."

"Inside of...there?" she gestured with distaste toward Mordor.

Elrond nodded, a worthy grimace gracing his lips. "The battle is over. But the siege is only beginning."

"Erestor and I will have everything prepared," she reassured, tugging at her outer garment to smooth it in a gesture of determination.  
This earned her a smile, but not for the reason she assumed. Elrond missed little, and knew that she would do all the work herself while not taking the credit for doing so. His chief counselor had a diamond in his diminutive wife; he only hoped that someday he too might be so fortunate.

**

"Good morning, adar, emel. I am assigned to help move you." Erestor woke, not entirely recalling part of the last day or...much...to see his son standing nearby, cheerfully speaking to him.

Yesterday Glorfindel took Alagos aside, deciding that it was time to have a frank discussion with him about his family's struggles. Particularly the struggles that were hidden from him, knowing that Erestor never would reveal them. He did not divulge great detail, but he said enough.  
"I wondered sometimes why adar would never speak of his own parents," Alagos admitted. "But I did not imagine that. My father is very brave, Glorfindel. Brave to have tried so hard. To have come here with the burden of such a difficulty. By comparison I feel inadequate."

The seneschal shook his head in wonderment at his nephew. For Estelwen's son had seen his trial by fire, and was now tested. Alagos dealt death to the enemy, tirelessly and with eerie grace. When the weeks turned into months, he found that second only to Gildor and Elrond himself, he preferred having the youth fighting at his side for both their sakes. Together, they could accomplish nearly anything. Yet in spite of this, Alagos' innate mildness remained somehow unscathed. And perhaps he was selfish, as well. It felt in a way as though Erestor himself were with him. In a way it was true; a part of his much loved friend, a facet that had never been damaged or diminished--that lived in Alagos.

"Well, he would not agree with you, but I have already said too much," Glorfindel smiled.

"I will not let on," the raven-haired beauty assured. "I understand."

So now Erestor peered up at his son, trying to work out why he did not understand what was being said. The only conclusion possible was, he had experienced another difficulty yesterday, and had been drugged into oblivion. Estelwen rose hurriedly to hug her son, very happy to hear of this. "Lord Glorfindel sent you, didn't he?" she smiled tiredly, not caring how late it was when at last she could join Erestor under the warmth of the blankets.

"Yes, emel," he said, kissing his mother on her cheek. "He said something about using my time profitably and helping my elders."

"Oh he did, did he?" Her eyes narrowed. Though, the comment was probably fair revenge for saddling Glorfindel with dosing Erestor. Probably she even needed to offer him some choice sexual favor by way of thanks, but all such considerations of equity had to be set aside for the moment. "Well. We can discuss that later. You will find all the materials crated; everything nearest this tent flap contain durable items. Everything else contains more fragile wares and," she indicated their satchels, "those contain current important documents and must not be removed from our possession lest the organization of the entire army be plunged into disarray. Additionally, your father needs water, and I am going to find it for him."

"I brought extra," Alagos explained, offering Erestor a flask. He could see his father struggled to clear his head.

"Thank you." Erestor drank gratefully, feeling his heart warm to realize that his son kept a hand on his shoulder. Today was a better day. That he had been cared for yesterday was not hidden from him, but...with a deep sigh he rose to his feet, rolling up their blankets. In moments the tent was down, the ground cloth and carpets packed away along with the wooden pieces that assembled into a writing desk.

Estelwen came to him when they were fully ready to leave, and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I love you," she told him quietly. His hand caressed her soft hair; he looked at his own fingers and saw the glint of his golden ring of marriage.

"And I you. I could not do this without you, Estelwen. Thank you, for what you must have done for me."

"You would do the same for me," she replied stubbornly. "I am your mate, Erestor. We will get through this. Together."

His long lashes closed over his chocolate-brown eyes, hoping so much that she was right about that.

Glorfield met them some leagues distant, as their wagon crossed Dagorlad. "Be alert, once inside. While we will do our utmost to keep your safety, I need not tell you it will always be more dangerous in the enemy's land. Even when you take your rest, be armed."

"We will," Erestor answered, still puzzling out what exactly had happened yesterday. "Thank you. For everything."

With a nod and a little smile, Glorfindel gestured for them to continue. Estelwen looked around unhappily as their path led them to the Morannon, now opened wide. The barrier was large and forbidding beyond anything she had allowed herself to imagine. Stepping through the gap in the massive wall felt like the most difficult thing she had ever done, and she gripped Erestor's hand tightly, setting her jaw against her own trepidation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's going on here?  
> The Battle of Dagorlad was not a one-and-done, but rather a conflict that wore on for some months. The main information given to us about it is that rather early on both Oropher and Amdîr got themselves and about two-thirds of their inadequately equipped subjects killed rather early on in the conflict by an insistence on "doing it their own way" rather than subjecting themselves to the leadership of Gil-galad. My writing partner referred to Oropher and the Ultimate Leeroy Jenkins (see the Internet, by way of explanation, it's really kind of hilarious). I can't argue.  
> Amdîr's forces were cut off from the main host and driven to the region next to the Dead Marshes. So, fun trivia fact? When Gollum in LoTR describes "...a great battle. Tall Men with long swords, and terrible Elves, and Orcses shrieking. They fought on the plains for days and months at the Black Gates..." and Frodo and Sam see the dead elves in the marshes, they are assuredly seeing in part the fallen woodland elves of Amdîr. The marshes spread, in the three thousand years prior to the War of the Ring, covering what was once that part of Dagorlad. Oropher led a hopeless solo charge against Mordor, and was killed in a different but equally stupid manner.  
> The Alliance forces were victorious at Dagorlad, but that was only winning the battle--not the war. They next had to move into Mordor, where Sauron was besieged in Barad-dûr...


	16. The Siege of Barad-Dûr

Erestor was away, making the rounds to receive the reports from the other counselors and elves charged with various duties; he would return later to compile the statistics. Estelwen worked to resolve yesterday's information against their inventory records, bent over her desk, trying to ignore the periodic concussions that assaulted her ears. It had been six years of this. Six years of their lives, more or less based around these desks in this tent used for Lord Elrond's planning and disposition, though he was more often away from it than not. And right now, their food stores were proving worrisome, as she tried to determine their projected supplies against the difficulty of importing fresh rations from elsewhere in the realm of Gondor. For if anything good had come of this indeterminable siege, it was that the ordinary operations of agriculture had been resumed in the southern kingdom of men. Deep in thought, she brushed the end of her quill feather back and forth across her lips.

"Estelwen, I presume?" a resonant voice asked.

Glancing up was followed immediately by moving around the table to go down on one knee. "My Lord," she replied humbly. "How may I serve you?"

Thranduil blinked, and moved forward to raise her up. "You do not have to do...that," he replied. "You are not a silvan elf, or one who is obligated to me."

"I am an elf, Aran Thranduil, and you have taken on the duty of ruling an elven people. I count some silvan elves among those closest to my heart," she added softly. "You deserve that I would honor you."

He nodded slowly, regarding her. "I was sent, or rather...referred, by your high king. Unlike my father, I have refused to base my actions on the old arguments. As I am certain you are aware, our people experienced heavy losses. We have no one to help keep records, assimilate information." The king seemed to be gathering himself to make his request.

"I will help you in any way I am able, Aran Thranduil. As you can see I am not a warrior, or possessed of much physical presence. But with the consent of my own Lords, my mind and my quill are at your service. You need only send to me those you will use as coordinators, overseers for this task. If they require training concerning what to do I will teach them. If there are further difficulties myself and my husband will gladly assist."

"I am sorry, your husband...? I have had little time to learn of the other realms.”

"Ah. My apologies. I am wed to Lord Erestor, Chief Counselor of Lord Elrond. I serve our Lord as an ordinary counselor, under my husband's authority."

"Do not listen to her, Aran Thranduil," Erestor said, only how returning and having lingered outside for a moment to overhear what was being said. "My wife would have everyone believe she does little other than what I instruct. The truth is that she is more than half the force behind our organization and has worked tirelessly to facilitate surmounting any difficulty involving inventories or the movement of staples and other necessities. I am Erestor of Imladris, and I too am at your service."

Again, Thranduil blinked, as this stunningly beautiful ellon he had beheld on some previous occasions bent his knee and bowed deeply. "I did not expect this," he replied quietly. "You cannot know how much this will help me. Help...us."

"We were not there to witness, but we heard what happened. Please accept our regrets for what has befallen all of you, and for the loss of your father." For a brief moment Erestor's eyes clouded over, and Estelwen held her breath, worried that her husband would not make it to the other side. But seconds later the emotion passed, and a smile graced his fair face. 

"You are very gracious, and I thank you. Two of what passes for my staff will be sent to you; Thalion and Thanadir are their names. The former will be acting as a captain, the latter as my seneschal. One has to begin somewhere," he smiled crookedly.

"Indeed, Aran Thranduil. Now and later, we will aid you in any manner we can. Please do not hesitate; our Lords would wish this."

"Thank you," Thranduil said, with a nod to each of them. While he walked away, he mumbled softly to himself as was his habit. "So much for father's tripe concerning 'the proper place of ellith.' Yet another error to avoid; she is highly regarded and surely she is not the only elleth of great worth." He shook his head. "I loved you, father, dearly. But you were a fool in too many ways, and Valar willing I will not be making the same mistakes."

*****

{S.A. 3440}

"Anórien was lost," Glorfindel said with grief in his voice. He was paying one of his periodic visits to keep them informed concerning the latest awfulness. "Killed, by one of the missiles cast from Barad-dûr. The sorties and attacks from the tower are increasing. A very great number have been injured by the projectiles they are casting down. They created some manner of fiendish weaponry, able to hurl burning rocks a much greater distance than previous. It came out of nowhere and many were lost before we could withdraw to a safer distance."

 

*****

{S.A. 3441}

“My Lord Erestor, the High King commands your presence,” the breathless page related, after appearing in Lord Elrond’s tent where the counselors both labored to tally long lists of inventories. 

Erestor looked up in surprise, before his eyes turned to his wife.

“Nothing has changed,” she assured him cryptically, returning her focus to her work.

Erestor understood, and quickly followed the young ellon through the organized confusion of the camp behind the siege line. Cloaks were rarely needed here; it was usually too warm as opposed to anything else. He was finally directed into a large tent, where two guards pulled back the canvas for him. Hesitating only for a moment, Erestor entered. Catching sight of Ereinion, he walked forward to kneel before him. “How may I serve you, my Lord?”

“You may begin by rising, and having a seat. And perhaps accepting some wine?” The King’s voice was laced with humor.

With some shyness, Erestor gladly accepted. “Wine is a rare treat, here; I thank you.”

Nothing was said for a few moments while Ereinion poured a second goblet, giving it to his guest and allowing some moments for appreciating it. “It has been a very long time, Erestor, and I have kept my promise. I have not sought out your company. Nor do I do so now, for I know that you belong to another. And yet lately a sense has rested upon me that change will come, and soon. I asked you here in the hopes of enjoying your conversation; hearing something of your life since last we spoke in privacy. Having an evening where the realities outside of this tent might be set aside.”

Erestor looked down shyly, considering the depths of his wine. “It is true that I am wed, Lord. But my wife and I are not...usual. We made the choice long ago to have others, as lovers. She knows, about what once passed between us. Would what you wish of me be different, if you had our full consent?”

Ereinion stared at Erestor, not having anticipated this or anything like it. He had not spoken a falsehood; his one-time lover had not been asked here for any impropriety. Truthfully, a sense of foreboding had come over him. If that prescience proved to be correct, he wished to end his time on these shores having enjoyed fellowship one last time with the ellon who had always held his heart. “I cannot lie to you, I have always desired to have you again. But that is not why I asked you here. Your wife must be extraordinary. She is your fellow counselor, that I met; I was told?”   
  
“Yes, Lord. Estelwen. She is like no other; beautiful, and small. But the size of her body has nothing to do with the expanse of her heart. I am greatly blessed.”

“Come closer, Erestor,” the King asked. 

Without any hesitation, Erestor placed his wine down and sat as close to the King as possible without actually touching him. Ereinion drank in the same beauty, studied the same perfectly dark eyes as he remembered from long ago. The King reached his hand to cup Erestor’s cheek; the dark beauty leaned into his touch. A thumb traced the rosy lips, that parted willingly for him.

“You are completely certain?” Ereinion asked Erestor. “I will not think less of you for refusing me, even after what you have already said. But I too am flesh and blood, and do not have the strength to resist something freely given when it is so greatly desired.” 

For an answer, Erestor tugged the closures on his tunic loose, as well as the lacings of his breeches, and knelt before him. “I am yours, in whatever manner pleases you, Lord.”

The King leaned in slowly, to kiss the perfect lips. Erestor’s yielding welcome set Gil-galad aflame; drove to the heart of a weakness that had always existed. “I have always loved you,” came the admission from the royal lips. “If only I had known...much could have been different. And yet perhaps this was for the best.” Ereinion was built powerfully; close to matching Glorfindel’s stature but still lacking the full strength of the golden warrior. Erestor surrendered to the King as he would to Glorfindel. While he was often the dominant partner in his exchanges with Estelwen, he willingly allowed Glorfindel--and now Ereinion--to control their encounters. Soon enough he was on the bed underneath the King, being prepared and entered. With practiced ease, he tilted his hips to offer himself.

“Your other lover is an ellon,” Ereinion said, by way of sudden realization. He did not miss the subtle signs of Erestor’s comfort concerning his advances, or the little motions that indicated he was accustomed to receiving love from another male. “I did not expect this. And I confess that now I am jealous. May I ask who it is, that has the privilege of knowing you and presumably your wife in this manner?”

This question lifted the veil of Erestor’s ignorance. Looking up into the eyes of the King who now possessed him, he saw the love and desire there that were usually hidden away. What the King had truly wanted, and what he had set aside so long ago. The awareness pierced him with a poignant pain of regret, and loss. He had not known. And what if he had? The screen fell away, as he realized that he had been sent from the King, in order to be free to one day find Estelwen. An elleth, marriage, and a child of his own issue. And yet was there not room in his heart for more? “Glorfindel, Lord. Estelwen and I love Glorfindel, and have for over a thousand years. He is as family, to us. And there is another, one of the Galadhrim, but...we have been sundered from him for a very long time.”

“On account of Amdír?” Gil-galad guessed, burying himself deeper.

“Yes,” Erestor groaned. “Lord, I did not know your heart…” Tears formed in his eyes, as the sacrifice that had been made for his well-being settled over him.

“You were not meant to, Erestor,” the King said, kissing away the moisture. “It was my choice. And if another ellon is to have you, it sets my mind at ease to know it is him.” Ereinion tilted his head. “Who can say, what the future will hold? But here and now, you are mine. And I intend to cherish what is being given to me.” Nothing else was said, as the King made love to the dark elf slowly, carefully, relishing every moment as he watched the great beauty beneath him come undone, offering all of himself. Over and over, Erestor was taken; there would be no departure until dawn’s first light slowly filtered over the camp.

**

Not long after Erestor left her, Glorfindel appeared. “Is Erestor here, Estelwen? I had hoped to discuss when the next caravan that will go to seek water needs to depart.”

Inscribing her current sentence with the usual perfect lettering, she laid her quill aside. “He was summoned by Gil-galad, and my feminine intuition tells me he will not be returning anytime soon,” she smirked. “But I have the information you desire here. Or at the very least, if you give me a moment I can extrapolate the answer to your question based on how many barrels of water were still on inventory as of this morning.”

“You are a marvel,” he praised.

“And you are a flatterer,” she teased. “But I am not complaining. And...it would appear that with the time needed to make the round trip...I would say the next departure should be within the next three days, if we are to maintain our current reserve. The return caravan from north Ithilien will arrive, hopefully, within that time frame. Curse that these lands are so hostile to any decent form of life.”

“Or curse that elves cannot drink the filthy water on which orcs and trolls can exist,” Glorfindel retorted drily.

“Well, that is one way of looking at it.” Estelwen looked up at him; her workday was now completed. Her expression changed, and in a much smaller voice she asked him a question. “Would you stay with me tonight, Glorfindel? In my heart I know that Erestor is not going to return. I have never slept alone here and…” she trailed off, embarrassed to be admitting fear of something everyone else here did every time they laid down to rest.

“Yes. I will. But I must attend to a few other matters before I can return here. Can you procure rations for both of us?”

She nodded, surprised on some level that he had agreed. “I can. I am in charge of them, remember?” The pretty face smiled up at him, so...grateful.

“Silly me,” Glorifindel teased, moving around the desk to kneel down and kiss her softly on the lips. “I will look forward to our time together, melethril.”

**

Erestor left the King’s tent in a deeply affected state of mind. His clothing was perfectly reassembled; he had been lovingly cleaned by a monarch who apparently had no need of rest other than the quiet interludes that punctuated their lovemaking. And they had shared food; the choice offerings that were for the High King alone had been fed to him during their night together as an adjunct to lovemaking. “Tell Lord Glorfindel I wish to see him here, when you chance to find him,” Gil-galad gently commanded. Erestor knew that he was close to being dismissed, and felt near to being overwhelmed. “And, there is something I require of you.”

“Anything, Lord,” Erestor said. Though a moment later, he was stunned to silence when a ring was slipped onto one of his fingers. Looking down, he saw the band of gold with a blue stone at its center.

“I have had a sense of foreboding lately, Erestor. One I cannot ignore. You will remain behind the lines of battle, and are therefore a suitable guardian. Someone I trust implicitly. I think you know what this is. Should the worst befall me, it is to be given to Lord Elrond. Should the worst befall him, my choice is Lord Glorfindel. And should none survive, then I will trust to your own wisdom.”

“Yes, Lord,” Erestor answered, his voice quavering and stricken. This must have been entirely visible on his face, for the King drew Erestor close into one last embrace. “I will never forget the time I spent with you here, Erestor of Imladris. You may never understand, what your willing heart meant to me. If I am blessed to see a peaceful future, perhaps much will change, but that is not a discussion to be entertained now. Go with my thanks, my blessing, and the assurance that I am so proud of the ellon you have become.” He leaned down to kiss him one last time on the lips; a chaste kiss filled with love. Then firm arms held Erestor’s shoulders in place, as the king backed away. “Go now, Erestor,” the King commanded, knowing that it would be necessary.

“I love you, my Lord,” tumbled from the perfect lips, as Erestor blinked back tears and forced his feet to move. Every moment of the long walk back was needed to try to master his emotions, and there were many times a tear was knuckled away. But at last...something...was managed, though he knew the odds were very high he would need the medication today. 

Glorfindel was not hard to find, as he was sharing tea with Estelwen in the early morning. “Glorfindel stayed with me last night,” Estelwen said softly, greeting her husband and perceiving immediately that all was not well.

Erestor nodded, hugging her. “I can hardly object, even were that something objectionable,” he murmured to her. “Thank you,” he said to Glorfindel, who also perceived what Estelwen did.

“It was my pleasure.” This was true enough; they were all beyond pretense with each other. “Erestor, are you alright? Did something happen?”

Tears pooled in the chocolate eyes. “No. And yes. I am not ready to speak of it, but I will someday. But not here. Not in this...place.”

“Medicine?” asked Estelwen. Her voice held no judgement, only compassion.

“Yes. But can we try a light dose first?” he pleaded, not wanting to be useless for the entire day.

“Anything you wish, love.” She kissed him on the cheek, and went to mix the powder.

“The King wishes to see you, Glorfindel,” Erestor remembered to relay. “In his tent. He did not tell me why,” was added as an afterthought.

“Then I should not keep him waiting,” the golden Lord said, and yet his feet did not move. Instead he approached his friend, who was now seated and drinking his medication. He crouched down, and took Erestor’s hand. “Did he hurt you, in any way?” The question was asked very softly, so that even Estelwen did not hear.

Erestor’s answer was just as quiet, as tears rolled down his cheeks. His head shook No. “The opposite.”

Glorfindel nodded, kissed his friend’s brow, and rose. All the way across the encampment, he pondered what he had seen and heard.

**

“You summoned me, my King?” Glorfindel entered with these words, and went down on one knee. 

“I did. Erestor was placed in oversight of something very precious, and wisdom dictates that he not be the only one who knows.” Some moments later, all was explained to Glorfindel, who would not have guessed at any of it. 

“I pledge to see your will done,” he told the King, with full sincerity.

“There is something you need to know, about it,” Gil-galad said, his mein contemplative. “About Vilya, for that is its name. It is my greatest hope, that this burden will not fall to Erestor. Strength of mind and heart are needed in a measure I fear he does not possess. The price for him would be too high and I...do not want this for him. The rings exact a toll on those who keep them,” he whispered. 

“You love him,” Glorfindel said without entirely meaning to, as the sudden comprehension washed over him. 

A wry smile twisted the King’s lips. “I would give much, to have been....you.”

“They would welcome you,” the blond pointed out with conviction, wondering at the level of his own audacity. “As would I.”

Ereinion blinked, in disbelief at how much he had not known. “What a happy fate that would be.” His face broke into a radiant smile just to imagine this. “Yet sadly this is not the time for affairs of the heart. If this war goes ill for me, take care of him, Glorfindel. Take care of both of them. More than anything, I wanted his happiness.”

“I will, my King.” Understanding that he was now dismissed, the seneschal departed, deliberately taking the longest route possible to return to his troops. He had much to consider.

*****

“Be on your guard,” Glorfindel commanded, sweeping into their tent out of nowhere, agitation written on his face. 

"Be on our guard how?" Estelwen asked. The tent had been her world for so long now that her ability to consider their external realities suffered, to an extent. She contributed to that, rarely even looking outside the tent flap unless necessity demanded it; mentally this was just easier so as to facilitate the comforting state of denial in which she tried to exist.

"Estelwen, come outside," the warrior insisted. "Both of you." He offered his arm, as he had not done in a long time. Glorfindel lifted her to his shoulders, seating her there.

The scene in the distance had shifted dramatically. Masses of alliance forces darkened the plain in the distance, arrayed in blocks that encircled Sauron's fortress. "In my heart I feel that something is going to happen, and soon," the golden Lord told them. "Should it go ill, be prepared to run, Estelwen. Leave this tent and flee with Erestor. Keep your water flask filled, have some food always at the ready and your weapons at hand. Get out of here, or do your best to try." She did not answer, while her mind and heart registered the terrible sight, and the fact that somewhere down on that plain before the hateful mountain Orodrúin, her son was in that mass of fighters. "I have to return," he told them.

"Valar protect you, Glorfindel." Each of them kissed him, full on the mouth, not caring who might be nearby to see. Erestor and Estelwen held hands as they watched the blond head run back toward the endless spread of armies. When finally they met each other's eyes, both had tear-streaked faces.

"I would talk about how I feel right now if it could possibly do any good," Estelwen said to her husband. "This is beyond awful." They did not return to the tent except to make the preparations on which their guardian had insisted; otherwise they remained to watch. The hours passed, and the very air grew heavy with a sense of waiting. Clouds massed over the volcano whose peak fumed and smoked. Then everything happened at once.

A thunderclap shook the ground, and a cry of dismay echoed across the distance separating them from the armies. The few ellyn tasked with guarding them moved a little closer. The ramparts of Barad-dûr seemed to explode, as fusillades of burning material were launched from new heights. The mountain erupted with violent force, shaking the earth and sending glowing magma into the air. "Oh, no..." she breathed, her spirit wrenching to see this.

"I think...I think it is him," Erestor cried. "He is coming forth! I do not know if I can look on this, Estelwen!" 

"Hold onto me," she demanded. "Lift me into your arms as you used to, and hold onto me. I am strong enough for both of us, Erestor. I promise I will not leave you, no matter what."

He did as he was asked, and found it steadied him, though his body shook and trembled. The battalions were no longer in formation; they had moved and scattered about like ants. Sometimes a shout or a roar could be heard in the distance, but they were in no danger. "I can see the standard of our King," Erestor said, taking heart. And in the distance indeed, the star-spangled banner of Gil-galad flew...until it did not.

"No...! Not him!" Erestor cried, as his heart shattered. Seconds later, Estelwen found herself hurtling to the ground, for Erestor had lost consciousness, his mind taxed beyond what it could bear. Pulling herself out from under her husband, bruised but unhurt, she grieved silently. For all of them. Seeing he was breathing at at peace for this moment, she stood again to watch. The mountain of fire was all but exploding, the battle at a fevered pitch, looking so much like a hill of angry ants all struggling for supremacy. Missiles hurled through the air in every direction, causing ruination to the many lives below...and then a terrible noise shook the air. A flash of light, the likes of which she had never seen, and a shock wave of power that moved out from a central point with terrifying strength. Her body was thrown backwards, hard, scraping her exposed cheek against the earth. All around there was an eerie silence, and stillness. Standing again, she looked back and somehow knew. Sauron was gone. They had won. Kneeling now she pulled her mate onto her lap with great difficulty and held him. "He is gone, Erestor. It is over."

*****

Alagos had smiled, to see his golden-haired commander return to their ranks. Always he felt confident, at peace, to know Glorfindel was near. The strength and courage of the reborn warrior blazed like a beacon to those who followed him. He was more than a fighter; he was a symbol. Death could take them, but not conquer. It heartened every last one of them. They watched, and waited, for all had the sense that something was about to occur, though no one knew what. "He is coming out, Alagos, have courage." They fought near to Gil-galad; but moments later they were fighting for their lives. Alagos became separated from Glorfindel, but this was nothing unusual. He engaged those around him, killing the servants of the enemy as best as he was able. When he was not so far from a cliff face of the mountain-side, a heavy blow fell against his body from behind. Thrown through the air, he crashed into the rock with terrifying force. It all happened so quickly. Too quickly to register surprise, or sorrow, or pain.

*****

Victory was theirs, but at a terrible cost. The Elven High King lay dead. Two-thirds of the silvan elves were lost, their kings along with them. Thranduil and Amroth had picked up the tatters that remained, determined to carry on as best as they could. Elendil had perished, as had his son Anárion. Isildur lived, but had squandered his opportunity to destroy the Ring of Power that had sustained the enemy. The elves did as they needed to, and searched for their wounded and their dead.

"This one yet lives," said one Galadhrim to another.

"He is not one of ours; look at his coloring," the second said. "We are not even supposed to be over here, I only strayed this far afield by not paying attention and following  _ you _ ."

"Amdír is dead and with him that utter stupidity," the first said harshly. "I will hear none of it. He is an elf and he is hurt and needs aid. You will help me bear him to our healers, or face the wrath of Haldir."

With a heavy sigh, the raven-haired warrior was carefully placed on a litter and borne away. "I hope you know what you are doing," the second one countered. "From the looks of those injuries, he will not survive anyway. And if he does, he will wish he had not."

"Your opinions are duly noted. Now shut up, and walk."

 


	17. Lost

"Erestor.  _ Erestor _ . Wake for me. Please?" Estelwen tried again.

Hours ago, the guards helped her bring Erestor into the tent, where he was laid out on his bedroll. This at least had the advantage of being on a soft carpet, making it a relatively luxurious resting place. Estelwen mixed more of his medication, not wishing to wait and see what his emotional state would be on waking. Whatever had happened out there, they would find out soon enough; in the meantime she needed to care for him. But knowing others would arrive soon and that he would need to interact, she kept the dosage light. Just enough to help him a little, not enough to send his mind halfway to Valinor.

"Wake, Erestor," she tried again, carding her fingers through his lovely hair, and kissing him. The long eyelashes fluttered and opened, once again trying to understand what had happened. "You were overcome, and fainted," Estelwen explained kindly. "I want you to have more medicine. No arguments. I mixed it lightly, just enough to help you. I have a feeling that a lot is going to be happening. Quite soon."

"Alright," he assented, struggling to remember. He obediently swallowed what she handed him, wincing at the taste.

"I am sorry about that," she said sincerely, kissing his cheeks in affection. And hope. "Please hold me?" 

"But...the battle..." he said, holding her with one arm and the side of his head with the other. "Ereinion..."

"Try to stay calm, Erestor," she encouraged, stroking his cheeks with her tiny hands. "We know nothing yet for certain. But...I think he is gone, Erestor. The enemy, I mean. There was a sound and an explosion of some kind and...the sense of a great weight lifting. I think something happened to Sauron. I want this to be over with," she whined for the first time since this campaign had begun.

"I know," he soothed, distracted for now. "You have done so much better than I, Estelwen. I could never have managed this without you."

**

Glorfindel was nearly frantic. For an uncertain amount of time after Sauron...came undone...the physical force of his dispersal left them stunned. The strongest of them recovered first; some to pursue errands of fate, such as Elrond with Isildur. Others simply tried to...assess. The seneschal had seen, and been unable to prevent, the fall of Gil-galad at Sauron's hands. Círdan was there at his side, with Elrond and...Sauron had simply burned him. The enemy had reached out, and there was fiery death, and the last King of the Noldor was simply...no more. But he at least knew where Elrond and Círdan  _ were _ ; they lived.  _ Where was Alagos? _

For hours he searched, body after body. Anyone clad in the garb of Imladris he checked, even if the color of the hair was wrong. He described the ellon to all that he encountered that were occupied in a similar errand. It was as if a great hand had reached out, and simply removed all traces of him from the world. Finally, at a loss, he did the only thing he could; he approached Elrond. His Lord was in the healer's tents, where he was needed most. 

Glorfindel waited, knowing that Elrond was both busy and near exhaustion.

"This day is bittersweet, my faithful friend," Elrond grimaced, knowing that his seneschal had not come to make idle conversation.

"More than you know," Glorfindel said. "I have a problem. As do you."

"What is my problem?" Elrond asked, finding this to be mildly amusing. 

"Ereinion left something for you in Erestor's keeping. It should pass to you sooner, not later. Erestor's mind and spirit have been taxed greatly, and that is about to become worse."

"Why?"

"I cannot find Alagos. Anywhere. And now I have to inform his parents of that. I know it is asking much but..."

"No, it is not. Just give me a moment."

**

No one could have guessed, at what would unfold when Glorfindel came to the couple and shared his news. Erestor stood, silent, but from Estelwen came a keening cry of grief that tore through all their camp. 

For it was a camp once again; with the battle over there had been movement. The bodies of men and elves were swiftly laid to rest, and great cairns of stone were raised over them. This was deemed the most dignified means of honoring their dead, as well as the most expedient. The wounded were removed to Erestor and Estelwen's location well behind the former battle lines; there was a sense of eagerness on the part of all who had been long kept from their homes to return as soon as might be managed. And if nothing else, to at least leave this accursed land swiftly.

When Erestor saw his wife's inconsolable sorrow, he too began to falter. "We have to do something," Glorfindel hissed to Elrond. "Or we will lose them both." This jarred Elrond from his surprise.

"Erestor's medication, where is it?" 

Fortunately, Glorfindel was able to provide the answer to that, directing him to Estelwen's satchel, where it was swiftly retrieved. 

"You are not going to do this to me," she pleaded through her sobs of despair. "Glorfindel, please, this is my son! I have to go look for him! I have to..."

_ No, Estelwen. Trust me as you always used to. Take the medicine. Please. I promise you that I will not stop looking.  _

_ Stay with me at least for a little while. Please. _

_ I will. _

Elrond made the dosage as strong as he dared for her size, and Glorfindel held the drinking cup to her lips. She grimaced. It did taste horrible, and in just another moment she was lost to more crying. All of her son's life, she could reconcile that he would have independence, be his own person. But to have lost him...her only child, so perfect and beautiful... Tears ran uncontrolled down her cheeks, while Glorfindel and Erestor both held her. Erestor was still too numb to process any of it.

"He might just be somewhere else," Elrond explained, trying to be encouraging even though he could not believe his own words. The awful truth was, there were some they would never find, because of burning, crushing, or a number of other horrible fates that had claimed them. The Lord of Imladris laid his hand on Erestor's back, and the touch reminded him of something.

"I was to give this to you, Lord," Erestor said, working the golden ring with the blue stone off of his finger. "That is, if it is true and the king has fallen."

"It is," Elrond said with a heavy heart, accepting it from his chief counselor.

"I am sorry," the dark elf whispered. "Sorry for our loss, and sorry that this burden falls to you. I could never keep it, Elrond. I have not the strength for such as that."

"I know, Erestor," Elrond reassured. "Your strengths are different that this. I will manage. And I will have such as you to help me."

The medication overcame Estelwen quickly; a sharp inhalation accompanied its first suffusion of her awareness. Her tiny hand grasped against the seneschal's tunic. "Glo'f'nel?" she asked, in barely a frightened whisper, before a nearly complete dissociative state encompassed her mind.

"Valar," the golden Lord muttered, tears brimming in his own eyes as he held her close. On only two other occasions in all their years together had he heard that from her, and each time she had been injured past any point where she could help herself.

*****

Haldir walked next to the wagon bearing their wounded, only too glad to see the back of this evil land of shadows. His hand rested on his brother's shoulder as often as possible. Orophin was heavily dosed against pain, but what was worse was his state of mind; he had been removed from the battlefield in grievous pain, completely unable to walk. The healers said that both his thighbone and his hip were badly broken; the recovery would be difficult and lengthy. When Orophin had been awake, he was consumed with despair.

Rúmil had tried his best to soothe his brother, but after a heartfelt discussion it had been acknowledged that Orophin responded better to Haldir. So Rúmil assumed as many of Haldir's duties as could be managed, with Amroth's consent. They all hated to say this, even to themselves, but exactly no one mourned the passing of Amdír, quite possibly not even his son. The only difficulty arose from an inconvenient reality--Amroth unfortunately had never been trained or groomed in any capacity for assuming leadership; at least Oropher had not omitted this with regard to Thranduil.

At the moment, the scholars, advisors and captains were doing their best to help their new king...manage, if it could be called that. Fortunately some of their better minds had survived Amdír's reign, and were in a position to offer many sound suggestions. But for the moment, all Haldir really needed to do was walk, and be occupied with his own thoughts. Orophin mercifully slept most of the time, for if he woke the pain from the movement of the wagon was difficult to bear. 

Next to him, another ellon was very heavily bandaged. Someone had bound up all of his hair in a cloth sleeve, ostensibly to keep it clean, but the top half of his face--forehead, one cheek, and eyes were buried under bandages. What else was wrong with him, Haldir was uncertain, but seemingly one whole side of his body was encased in plaster bandages, and something was wrong with his hips as well. The third injured one, one of the Galadhrim well known to Rúmil by the name of Suiadan, managed cheerfully enough in the wagon on medicine for pain, wide awake. He had a broken leg and a serious burn, but refused to complain.

Blessedly, they had the foresight to have mattresses laid by for just this reason, which reduced the discomfort from the inevitable jostling. On the second day, Haldir heard the previously unconscious ellon moaning in severe distress, and ordered the wagon stopped and the healer summoned.

"Oh thank Eru, we feared he was too far gone. This is a good sign," the elleth said, very pleased. "I wonder if I might ask for your help, Marchwarden. Whoever he is, he must be moved very carefully to eat and drink and...I will be honest, his body functions will require ongoing care. It will not be the most pleasant to witness." An apologetic look was darted to the far less badly injured elf who lay in the outer place.

"If the Marchwarden will help us, I will gladly move to the center position," Suiadan offered. "That will allow you easier access to him. And there is nothing wrong with my arms; I can help raise his body and hold him."

"I will take any help I can get," the healer smiled. "I will prepare pain medication and a little thin gruel."

*****

Five days later, the strain showed. Their patients were suffering, those tending them felt stretched to their limits...and yet they had little choice. The men of Gondor had their own wounded to tend, and had suffered badly depleted resources after supporting the Alliance for the years of the siege. The lack of wholesome water had hamstrung their efforts from the moment of their departure from the Anduin, and in the eyes of all there was no other option but to press onward. They could allow these poor injured ones some succor when they reached the great river, so close at hand.

Haldir's heart bled for these wounded. As badly as Orophin was hurt, the one next to him seemed so much worse. He never woke completely, and seemed to be in a sort of delerium when he did, often crying for his emel or adar . 

"I think he is not very old," Suiadan said to Haldir one day when the injured had been dosed heavily for pain. "Perhaps not even one hundred years."

"That may well be," Haldir replied with great sympathy, as he continued to hold Orophin's hand. Suiadan saw this.

"Do you think I should do the same for him? I pity him. The healer said he is not one of the Galadhrim, but someone whose identity they could not determine."

"I think that would be very compassionate of you," the Marchwarden replied. "Few kindnesses are greater than those we can bestow to ease suffering."

Suiadan took the unbandaged hand in his own, noting the delicate but strong formation of the fingers, and wondering greatly. Ever so faintly, he felt the hand he held respond, twitching faintly as if seeking to hold on in return. The healer next visited the patients on their wagon, asking how they were?

"The same," Haldir answered. "But Tireth (for that was her name), have we any idea who he is? Surely he wore armor? Had weapons? Something to identify him?"

The elleth shook her head and grimaced. "That...became muddled, I am afraid. There were too many injured, and barely trained soldiers were tasked with helping our triage. Their first job was to remove all armor, cut away clothing that would hinder our ability to treat their injuries. By the time I first saw him, he was nude save the blankets that covered him for modesty. Whatever trappings that might have helped identify him were cast aside almost immediately; it was the best we could do at the time. We hoped that at some point, he might tell us himself."

She busied herself now, changing the bandages on all of them. The mystery ellon was revealed to have dark hair, but half of his face was badly swollen. Tireth checked that the splits in his skin were healing well enough, and applied some salve. "I cannot imagine what happened to him," she said softly, now checking that the cloth pads placed in the event he urinated were dry. So far, there had been few accidents; somehow they had been able to coax him to eliminate at prescribed intervals. He was losing some weight, being fed an almost exclusively liquid diet, but that was deemed as less important than keeping him hydrated and not having to administer too frequent enemas to help move his bowels. Given his extensive injuries, the two times this had been necessary were no one's idea of fun. Soon enough they would be home, and able to care for him properly in the Healing Wards.

*****

Estelwen was barely consolable, and had nearly become a patient herself. Their duties were far less critical now that they were returning to Imladris, but they were still needed. Erestor leaned heavily on the other counselors, none of whom minded. Estelwen had worked very hard, during the war, greatly facilitating their tasks by her efficient organization. If anyone begrudged her grief, they did not openly express those opinions. Glorfindel spent all his free time now with Erestor and Estelwen; the need for military oversight had been greatly reduced and Gildor had been very willing to assist in this. 

Another event of import had occurred, though. Quietly, with little fanfare, Galadriel had appeared with Celebrían in north Ithilien, eerily close to the time of Sauron's demise. In the days following, they made their way to Celeborn and in turn joined those who would be returning to Imladris. They had much to discuss with Círdan, it seemed, for the three of them were often seen taking counsel together. Lindon would now need a ruler, and it would fall to the Lord of Mithlond to assume that role. Seen just as often walking together were Elrond and Celebrían, who despite his many sorrows now had a hope of his own.

Glorfindel remained true to his promise. The alliance was dispersing, but the vast majority of their elven peoples were mingled into this large host, moving out of the lands of Gondor and northward to their homes--or beyond, for it was the intention of many to find the northern havens and depart for Aman. He moved through the length of their numbers, telling of and asking for word of Alagos. In the end this led him to the Lady Galadriel and Celeborn, who he did not expect could possibly know anything. They did not, but now her thought was bent in this direction, for it grieved her to learn of what had happened and Estelwen's undoing from grief. The seneschal did not know what else to do except pray to the Valar for the care of Alagos' spirit, for surely he had been destroyed. 

With a heavy heart, he returned to them. "I feel I have failed you," he told Erestor and Estelwen, reaching to remove the necklace of beryls from himself. "I no longer have need of this, Estelwen, but you do. I will not lie to you, I believe he is gone if so much effort has been unable to locate him. And yet my belief is not fact. But I must remind you, even if the worst has happened and his spirit has returned to Námo, he yet lives though he is beyond our reach on these shores."

Erestor embraced Glorfindel, but Estelwen sat mutely, only staring ahead in silence while the beryls were clasped around her throat once again. 


	18. Found

"Please," came the soft and indistinct words that caught Haldir's attention. He gestured for the litter-bearers to stop their ascent.

"What is it?" he asked the unknown ellon, taking his hand, for his eyes were still kept bandaged on account of the swelling of his face.

"Please, no more. Just leave me here. The motion...I cannot bear the pain any longer," he pleaded. 

Haldir now saw that the dressings over his eyes were damp with tears, and called out in a strong voice for Tireth to come. "I cannot leave you, for we are but a few steps from the healing wards, where you will no longer endure being moved. But we will stop here, until medicine has been brought to ease your hurt." No reply came, but the hand he held weakly grasped onto his fingers. They moved out of the line of the injured being helped to the rooms not far above, until Tireth could return. "Can you tell me your name?" he asked kindly. "I am Haldir, Marchwarden of Lórien. You have been brought to the Golden Wood."

He did not have a chance to hear the answer, for Tireth came with a concentrated dose. "He will need it, both to rest and to sleep through the examination he will receive now that he is where we can care for him properly," she explained, administering the bitter paste mixed in with honey, encouraging her patient to swallow amidst apologies for the mixture. In the end, it was ingested and began to work very quickly. 

"Alagos," Haldir heard, in tones that began to slur. "Alagos, of Imladris." He shook his head, for that name meant nothing to him, but at least now they knew. Seeing that Alagos had slipped into unconsciousness, he ordered him taken along, and walked ahead to see to Orophin. 

"Are you in pain?" he asked his brother, who shook his head, looking away. They had settled him in a corner; out of regard for his rank as Captain he had been given a screen to afford him some sense of privacy. His broken leg was now elevated with an adjustable fracture-box, and he rested in a bed with a frame that had a hanging bar he could use to adjust himself to some extent.

"What I cannot feel cannot hurt," Orophin said bitterly. "I do not want this, Haldir. To be...crippled, and useless. A waste of space."

The Marchwarden looked down, both dismayed and angered. "I did not raise you to give up so easily, Orophin. You do not know how this will end up. We have not been home for a full day yet; they have not even begun to evaluate your injuries."

His brother turned on him, incensed. " _ I CANNOT FEEL MY LEG, HALDIR _ ," he roared. "What part of that are you failing to understand?"

Immediately the head healer, Nostalion, appeared. "I think you should leave, Marchwarden. Now," he said authoritatively but with respect. "We cannot have either the noise or his agitation; it is not good for him or any of the other patients."

Nodding, Haldir rose to leave, only to pass by another screened bed. They were working on Alagos, three of the healers at once. His casts had been removed, and his body and face were fully exposed to view for the first time since he was found and treated. Involuntarily, Haldir clapped his hand over his mouth and inhaled sharply. The injuries were horrific. All of one leg and much of another were a mass of purplish black bruisings and swollen into something almost unrecognizable as limbs; these were stretched by a traction device to stabilize them on account of the casts being off. The left arm, all down the left side of his chest showed similar damage. The left side of his face had a radiating bruise that encompassed the eye. It was probably simpler to note that the right side of his face, upper body and right arm were basically unscathed, while everything else appeared ruined.

Nostalion saw, and approached Haldir, laying a hand on his shoulder in sympathy. 

"What happened to him?" the Marchwarden whispered.

"We cannot say for certain what caused this. Many of his bones were shattered. All of the left leg, part of the right. Much of his hip. The arm, some of the ribs. I will be honest, I do not know how he survived the initial injury or the journey here, unless it was that he was conscious so little of the time and Vairë has not yet declared his end. His pain would have been unimaginable. It took great force, to have done so much damage. Many others would have bled to death from internal injuries; somehow he did not. His bones will heal, but it is no guarantee that he will have the use of his body. Certainly, he will never walk unaided again; this kind of injury exceeds the skill of our healing arts. Probably he will choose to fade," the ellon concluded sadly. "But as he lives, we are obligated to try."

"What about his head? His face?"

"That, ironically, is the least of his problems though his appearance is terrible on account of it. His cheekbone is broken in two places that we can perceive; the bandages stabilized those on the journey home. They can now be left off; those fractures have already begun to knit. He will fare better, now that he is no longer subjected to constant motion."

"He told me his name is Alagos," Haldir explained. "From Imladris. Probably at some point we should send word."

"Probably," Nostalion agreed, thinking of the hundred other obligations that in his eyes were of more pressing concern.

"I will return when I have cared for my obligations. And...I am sorry about Orophin's outburst. It is my fault; I know better than to rebuke one so injured. That will not happen again."

"Do not concern yourself, Marchwarden. He is not the first, nor will he be the last. Hopefully by the time you return we will have been able to examine him more thoroughly."

*****

{one week later}

Rúmil had stayed a long time with Orophin, to no avail. He had spoken of everything he thought might be of interest. Who was returned to patrols, this or that which King Amroth had decided upon (which was precious little), what news of the realm he had gleaned from the ellith who had remained home to tend crops and carry on against the eventual return of their people. None of it elicited a response. He was not about to mention the names of those known to have been lost (which were many), for his brother obviously dwelled in a dark place, spiritually.

This saddened him, to see Orophin thus; Rúmil had always considered his middle sibling to be the most even-tempered of the three of them, as moods went. He certainly would not forget the endless support he had been given through his own trials of long ago. His brothers had stood by him in his disgrace and throughout his journey toward restoration; he would give no less in return. "I love you," he told his brother in parting, with a gentle touch to his shoulder. Which also was ignored. He walked to leave the ward when he heard a single softly-spoken word.

"Please," Alagos said to him, thinking from his bearing that this ellon walking by surely was a warrior.

Rúmil stopped and turned to see that Alagos was awake, his good eye watching him. The other eye was watching too, but in fairness there still existed so much swelling, it was not precisely easy to tell. He approached the bed, and carefully sat at the edge so as not to create any motion. "Do you need something?" Rúmil asked, absently noting the strange mixed coloration of Alagos' unaffected eye.

"Please, can you tell me what happened? The battle? I do not know how I came to be here," he said, his voice rife with fear and loneliness. "I know nothing, except that I must be injured. Badly," he added as an afterthought.

Rúmil's face fell, to understand that they had all been so occupied with their own concerns that no one had paid this one of their kin any mind, aside from the care of his body. "The enemy is defeated," Rúmil answered, uncertain what if any comment he should make on what he had heard of the ellon's injuries. "All was nearly lost, when by some stroke of great fortune King Isildur cut the master Ring from the dark one's hand. Sauron...exploded. I do not entirely understand what precisely occurred as he was spirit incarnate, but he is gone. But Isildur kept the Ring," he added bitterly. "Which was a great folly."

"Can you tell me of my commander? Of Lord Elrond and King Ereinion?" 

"We heard Lord Elrond survived. Gil-galad...fell. Who is your commander?"

"Lord Glorfindel," he said, his words swelling with pride. "Please tell me he lived? He fought so close nearby and...look at me."

Rúmil now frowned. "We heard nothing of any ill having befallen Glorfindel. You must understand, we battled far distant from the forces under the High King. Afterward was nothing but madness; to find the injured and care in what ways we could for the dead. Everyone there shared one thought, which was to leave that forsaken land as soon as possible." He paused. "It has been long since I visited Imladris, but Glorfindel is one I count as a cherished friend. I cannot recall ever having seen or met you. Did you come from elsewhere?"

"No," Alagos said, his face somehow managing a partial smile. "I am very young, only just past my majority. Perhaps you know my parents? I am the son of Erestor and Estelwen, counselors to Lord Elrond."

Rúmil's eyes widened and his lips parted. "Estelwen's son?" he whispered, shaken to his core, struggling to maintain his composure. "Yes, I know your parents well, Alagos. And it is now a great sorrow to me, to understand that because of what transpired in this realm, I never knew of your birth. I ask your forgiveness; you will never be alone here again. I will care for you as if you were my own. We all will."

"This was not your fault," Alagos said cheerfully, though his speech revealed he was growing tired. "I am just so grateful you would speak with me. I wish I knew if my parents were well, but from what you have said there is no way to know that."

"I believe we will be working to remedy that situation," Rúmil promised, noting a grimace of discomfort in Alagos' face. "Are you in pain?"

"It is coming back again," Alagos whispered. "When the medicine wears off, it becomes difficult. I do not mean to complain; I do not know how to thank your people for the care I have been given."

"It is we who are honored," Rúmil answered, gently taking Alagos' good hand and feeling vague surprise when the affection was immediately welcomed and returned. "I will bring the healer to come assist you. Rest now; you will see a great deal of me."

The Captain did as promised, and descended to search for Haldir at the barracks. But once he reached the forest floor, he turned aside from the path and wept tears of regret and burning resentment that the Lord and Lady had ever left these lands. 

*****

{Three weeks later}

It had been decided that all those returning to their homes via Imladris would divide into two parties; the able-bodied and those in charge of administration would forge on ahead with enough warriors for their protection, while a second group forced to travel slower because of caring for the wounded would follow with the bulk of their forces. This would allow for at least some organization and preparation. So it was that Estelwen and Erestor accompanied Lord Elrond, Glorfindel and others in lesser positions of oversight, and counted themselves among the first to set foot again in their valley.

Estelwen had achieved a certain equilibrium. A public facade of efficiency had been adopted, but every moment she had to herself was spent in silence and grief. It reminded Glorfindel very much of when he first met her; she wore a mask not even he and Erestor could pry off. Many days ago they spoke with Elrond, seeking advice.

"Maybe I am a fool," Erestor told his friends. "But I cannot yet accept that I have lost Alagos. This is not real for me. Perhaps it will be, when the passing of time allows for no other conclusion. I fear for Estelwen, though. She...I cannot even say where she is in her grief, for she will not communicate about any of it. Yes, she walks alongside me each day, but everything that makes her my Estelwen is gone. I may have lost everything," he said sadly, thinking of but not allowing himself to truly consider the death of Gil-galad, or what would happen if his son was indeed lost and his wife’s well-being along with it. "I am not certain how it is that I can even talk about this right now."

Glorfindel held Erestor close, no longer caring what Elrond did or did not know in the privacy of a tent screened from the eyes of others. He cast a worried glance at his Lord, for he too felt trepidation. 

"We should leave this matter until we are home," advised Elrond gently. "There has been much grief, and weariness; the time for insisting on such difficult discussions should not be now, while we still travel homeward. Estelwen is coping in her own way, as are all of us. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say she is delaying coping. At the very least, she is managing her duties and not needing to be sedated in order to place one foot in front of the other. For right now, we are reduced to being grateful for that much."

**

{Three and a half weeks later}

Wearily, Elrond opened the door to his office and sat in his chair for the first time in the better part of eight years. He stared at the ring on his finger, and at some of the personal possessions that decorated the corners of his desktop, allowing the disbelief to wash over him. A page appeared in the doorway, knocking. "Forgive the intrusion, Lord Elrond," the youth said. "This message came from the Golden Wood two days ago by bird, marked urgent for you. We awaited your return." Handing over the tiny scroll, the young ellon departed with a bow.

Sighing deeply at the understanding that this would be the first of approximately a hundred thousand interruptions of a peaceful moment, Elrond carefully unrolled the tiny scrap of paper. Seconds later, he made an extremely undignified spectacle on account of running at top speed to find his seneschal.

**

"Read it," a very insistent Elflord demanded without preamble. 

Glorfindel scanned the note, his lips parted in both elation and worry before returning his gaze to Elrond. 

"I know what I have in mind to say," Elrond told him. "But I would hear your counsel before I do so."

"Tell them almost all of the truth," Glorfindel advised. "That Alagos is safe in the Golden Wood, being cared for. That he is out of mortal danger, but with extremely serious injuries. That they are irreparable...am I wrong to consider that as being only a medical opinion? I would hesitate to place my full trust in anyone not...well, you. Not without knowing far more than is here."

"Then we think alike. But I will tell you now, Glorfindel, I have great respect for Nostalion. He would not have made such a statement lightly. You and I should be prepared for what he asserts to be true, however difficult that may be to accept. But I feel we should not delay. You will come with me to speak to them?"

Glorfindel nodded, trying to think of when he had felt such elation and such apprehension all at once. Minutes later they were in the Library, where they cleared all others out and ensured the couple was seated before telling the news. For a half minute Estelwen sat motionless, until a hoarse sob shook her frame. She held onto Erestor as though he were a line to one who was drowning. He too cried with relief, though not like his wife.

**

{one week later}

"I want to go," Estelwen insisted. "I want to be with my son."

Elrond stared straight ahead, having known this was coming. "Not for awhile, Estelwen, please. You must be patient."

Anger like never before experienced rose inside of her. "May I know why?" All her force of will was needed, to keep her tone level, though even she knew that to an extent she had already failed.

Glorfindel did not wait for Elrond to answer, but interrupted though he had not been asked. "Many reasons, Estelwen. Imladris is in shambles right now. Many have not yet even arrived, and injured ones needing the same care as Alagos will need our help in turn. You cannot make that journey alone without risking your life, and every warrior including myself is exhausted from what we have just endured. And even if you could travel alone, we are on the cusp of winter. You would not be able to return for a very long time. Last and most important of all, your son would be appalled at the choice to come to him, in view of everything I have just said. He is a warrior, and one of strong spirit at that. Alagos would agree with every word. I promise you that in the springtime, with Lord Elrond's consent, I will take you there myself if it is still your wish." What he left out was that it would take a special escort to bring Alagos home; whether by horse or some other conveyance he would need to be carried.

Elrond had rarely felt more thankful for Glorfindel's presence than at this moment. Somehow it was easier to face Sauron himself in battle than a grieving mother whose instinct to protect and care for her child raged with full might.

Her vexation burned, a red-hot impulse that threatened her reason. Everything that had just been said was sensible, logical, and the polar opposite of what she wanted. Estelwen felt her body tremble with the urge to smash every breakable within reach and scream her opinions at the top of her lungs. Her unsettling eyes fixed on Glorfindel, and she spoke in the softest of whispers. "If you ever loved me, help me. I cannot do this on my own."

Elrond's eyebrow raised, and the seneschal ignored him. "Come with me," he said to Estelwen. With a nod to Elrond that he hoped conveyed enough, he ushered her out and into the solitude of one of the gardens. They came to the same place where arguably their real relationship began so long ago. Without warning, he pulled her down into his embrace, holding her tightly.  _ Let it out,  _ she heard in her mind. _ You cannot hurt me. I will help you. _

She fought against his hold like a demon, releasing all of her pent-up rage, grief, frustration and fear into her struggle against him. The thoughts in her head were silently screamed; his mind accepted and deflected all of them. When the anger passed, she sobbed against his chest until there was no more. In complete trust, she accepted the grace that was his to bestow. 

"Heal, Estelwen," Glorfindel whispered. "Alagos will need us, when the time comes. You are forgetting that he is in the care of Haldir, and Rúmil. For love of you, they will watch over him as would you."

"I have been an idiot," she whispered, so weary from the constant battle against her own sorrows.

"No. You have been a mother. And in doing so you brought me an unimagined blessing. I too love him."

"Thank you. For everything." She knelt in his lap, and with her tear-stained face kissed his cheek in love, and gratitude.

**

{One month later}

"I want to know what happened to me," Alagos insisted. While he was no healer, he had seen some injuries be treated. It did not take broken bones more than two months to heal. Something else had to be the matter, that he could move so little and still experienced so much pain.

Haldir looked at Rúmil, dreading this. Most others were gone now from the healing wards, but still Orophin and Alagos lingered. The former ellon still refused to interact with his family, though he was a captive audience to the conversations his brothers had with Alagos. He did not know what he felt about that, amidst the consuming resentment on account of his circumstances.

With a sigh, Haldir requested Nostalion to come. Alagos was not a child, and his prognosis could not be kept from him forever. This was the moment they feared, though. Neither brother was certain how they could bear it, if Alagos were to fall to the same despair as Orophin. The healer came, and answered his questions. This was one of his least favorite duties.

"Never walk again?" Alagos repeated softly, wishing very much that he had heard wrong. Though on some level, he already knew--his body had been broken too badly.

"I am so sorry," Nostalion told him. Haldir held his hand, while this news was given. "I very much hope that time proves me wrong, but...your injuries were the worst we have ever seen in an elf who lived."

Alagos turned his head to the side, trying to absorb this information. "What does someone do, who is like me? I can see that my role as a warrior has ended."

Nostalion hesitated. "Some find other occupation. Others...I will not lie to you, Alagos. Some elect not to live, preferring to return to the Valar. There they await restoration to life, in a body that will be free from debilitation."

A crooked smile formed on the young ellon's face. "I cannot die," he told the healer. "My father lost his entire family in war and it affected him deeply. I love my adar and emel, and I could not do that to them. Not after they showed me such love and blessing in raising me. Maybe if I were alone in the world, that could somehow be an option, but I am not. I cannot think only of myself, in this way. It would not be right. Somehow I will have to find another path. My father is not a soldier, he is a scholar. I have a mind, and the full use of one hand and arm. But you still have not explained, what happens now? Will I get better at all? Is there anything I can do?"

Behind the screen that separated their beds from view of each other, every word Alagos spoke stabbed Orophin to the heart. He had not seen or spoken to the other ellon, but he knew that his injuries were far worse than his own. And he burned with shame, at the unintentional rebuke he had just received. All of the speeches Haldir or Rúmil could ever have made amounted to nothing by comparison. Here was another warrior afflicted worse, demonstrating another kind of courage instead of a determination to die. He wiped away the tears that escaped his eyes angrily with his tunic-sleeve, determined not to be seen like this.

"Yes, there is," the healer informed. "When your bruising is fully gone, we will begin that process. But we will discuss that later; right now I think you have been given quite enough to consider. And it is time for your pain medication." With a short bob of his head to indicate that Haldir should administer the next dose, the healer moved off to care for other matters.

"Wait," Orophin said clearly, arresting Nostalion's movement. "I do not want this screen here any longer, please. I want more light." The healer hid his surprise and nodded, quickly collapsing the frame and moving it elsewhere. Still Orophin looked only straight ahead, while Haldir and Rúmil looked at each other, deeply stunned. By silent agreement they rose. 

"We will return later," Rúmil announced. 

Haldir leaned down to kiss the crown of his brother's head, pretending not to notice that Orophin was blinking back tears. "I love you, and always will," he said quietly, before leaving without a backward glance. Alagos was already fading to sleep. With the room now empty except for the two of them, Orophin turned to study Alagos for the first time and inhaled sharply. All the physical beauty of Erestor lay there, broken but somehow undiminished. Orophin cried freely now, grieving for both of them.


	19. Recovery

A knock fell on the door of Glorfindel's office. "Come in," he said absently, determined to pen the last assignment on the duty roster before his concentration was broken. And his concentration was indeed broken, for Baineth stood before his desk. Later, he would look back on this moment and feel that he had done a passable job of hiding his astonishment, all things considered. "How may I help you?" he asked in his best professional tone. He found that to not actually be so easy, on account of the explosive and shallow intimacy they had once shared. And which he still regretted.

"I had heard everyone had returned," she explained. "I am glad to see you safe. But I was looking for Alagos? No one has seen him, it seems." 

Glorfindel stared at her, for a moment, as assorted information about which he hoped he was wrong slotted into place. "I know his whereabouts, but I wondered if I might first ask you if you are the elleth he told me he was courting?"

"Courting?" Her eyebrows shot up in amusement. "We were seeing a great deal of each other. If I might be frank, he is everything an elleth could want, between the sheets. He seemed to be enjoying himself. I certainly was."

"I hope you can forgive my boldness, but I have a certain...paternal interest in his welfare. Are you aware of his years?"

"Young and raring to go," she grinned.

The seneschal suppressed a flash of anger. "Are you aware that he has fallen in love with you, and talked of a betrothal once he returned from the war?"

"You're joking," she said flatly. 

"I wish I was," he retorted.

"I never told him I loved him. I certainly never breathed a word about marriage."

"And yet you knew he was inexperienced and newly come to his majority, an age at which many elves seek life partners."

"Are you going to tell me where he is? Because I did not come here to be lectured about sexual etiquette by you,  _ Lord _ Glorfindel." Her tone remained even, but her eyes had hardened.

"He is in Lórien, being treated for injuries so severe that we are told he will be permanently affected. Are you going to reject him?"

"I think we have already established that I never accepted him in the first place," Baineth countered. "And, it depends. Is he still pretty?"

"I do not know," Glorfindel said, a knot of disgust now forming in the pit of his stomach.

"Then neither do I." She rose to leave.

"You are not going anywhere just yet. I have one more thing to say."

"Oh, do you?" she jutted her chest out at him, enjoying the verbal game. "Are you going to toss more sanctimony in my direction? You did not seem to mind when my legs spread for your benefit."

Glorfindel approached, and leaned over her, not caring that he was using his physical size to intimidate. "You think we are the same? We are not, and I will tell you why. I understand that my partners are children of Eru, with feelings that I care about, though in your case I am now prepared to make an exception. It matters to me, that they are not hurt. You exploit and you use. You have no regard for what that beautiful ellon will endure when he finds out you never cared for him beyond his looks and what is in his breeches. I would never treat another thusly. You should feel shame, but I suspect you and that emotion have not made each other's acquaintance."

"Are you done yet?"

"Almost," Glorfindel said. "Leave Alagos alone. In fact, stay away from here altogether."

"Or what? You cannot tell me what to do."

"Technically no, but I have no problem informing his mother of this discussion."

"The little one, with the funny eyes? Why would I possibly care what she thinks?"

"Because the little one can pin a butterfly to a fencepost with her knife at twenty ells, and I for one would enjoy seeing her find something to throw at you once she has learned of how you have regarded her only child."

Baineth scowled at the seneschal, spun on her heel, and stormed out. Yes, she had kept her bravado to the end. But the brief flicker of fear in her eyes would now be forever favorably enshrined in his memory. Smiling to himself, he returned to his paperwork.

*****

{three weeks later}

"Can you feel me touching here?" (tickles bottom of feet)

"Can you feel this?" (pinches big toe)

"Can you feel this?" (touches ankle)

"Push against my hands with your feet."

"Now pull against my hands with your feet."

"Bend your knee."

"Can you lift your leg at all?"

"Make a fist."

"Raise your arm."

On and on. These questions now felt like the borders of their lives. When Alagos had woken next after the day the screen between them had been removed, he felt surprised to see Orophin watching him. "Hello," he had said in his sincere, outgoing manner while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Are you feeling better?" 

The question, in the midst of all Alagos' problems, struck Orophin as vaguely absurd, and for the first time since his injury he laughed. "Maybe?" he answered. "I am not much in pain any longer, but I cannot feel my leg that was broken. I am afraid I will not regain the use of it, though they tell me to be patient."

"Oh," Alagos grimaced. "I can feel mine, and sometimes I wish I did not. They hurt often, and then do not do anything I wish them to... just to add insult."

Orophin smiled. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

Alagos frowned, for no one had really asked him that, at least not that he could recall. "Um, I was fighting. There were orcs. I was near to Glorfindel. I remember him saying, 'Sauron is coming, have courage,' or something like that. But there were orcs. A lot of orcs, and I was just trying to stay alive. Then something hit me, so hard, but it was a blur. Like, I knew I was hit hard but it happened so fast it did not hurt? I think I flew through the air, and then nothing. My next memory after that is hazy but it was being brought here, I think." His voice grew soft. "I remember waking to so much pain. I wanted to be left still, even if it meant I would die. I could not bear it any more. And then I was here." He looked over at Orophin again. "Not really a very good summary, I am afraid. You?"

"A rock," Orophin said, annoyed. "Those troll things they had? The ones that are brainless on two legs but can pick up entire boulders as though they were balls of yarn? One of those ran loose near us. I am an archer, as most of us here are. I shot it, and it threw a rather large stone at me which I could not evade. Broke my hip and thigh. And then the thing happened where Sauron exploded, or at least that seems to be what everyone is calling it. They got to me almost right away. The healers, I mean. It was...bad. I've never felt pain like that but...I was given medicine and afterward it is about the same as what you said. Though, you are hurt far worse than I. I am sorry, for what happened to you," he said quietly. 

"Not your fault," Alagos smiled, catching Orophin off-guard. Even injured and in pain, Alagos possessed unusual physical beauty.

"You have an eye like Estelwen's," Orophin exclaimed, not having been able to see this before.

"You also know my emel?" Alagos asked, pleased, before he realized the obvious. "Oh. That was stupid. Your brothers and...my head is not entirely clear these days. I am sorry."

"Do not be. In some ways I know her least of the three of us," he said evasively, uncertain if Alagos would...be informed, of everything that had happened. "She came here once to live, for more than a year, on an assignment. Unfortunately I was out on patrol for much of that time. Everything was different then; the Lord and the Lady were our leaders. Before they left, before Amdír."

"I am sorry, for the loss of your king," Alagos said.

"Then you are the only one," Orophin retorted cuttingly. "He was awful, Alagos. I do not wish to speak ill of the departed, but we are better off without him."

"Oh, dear." He suddenly remembered one of his father's tidbits of political advice:  _ When in doubt, keep your silence. And, if possible, change the subject. _ "I was never much for politics. I ended up training with weapons. Sometimes I wonder what might have happened for me, had all of this not come to pass, down south. But it did, and I grew into being a warrior. Swords, mostly..."

And so it went, between them. By virtue of his age and the length of his service, Orophin had a vastly greater quantity of amusing stories to share. Alagos enjoyed these, as a means to pass the time. But not too many days after, what was called 'rehabilitation' began for both of them. The healers came, and began to move and flex limbs that had stiffened and lost condition while the bones healed. Alagos' bed was fitted with a device like Orophin's, so he might pull himself up with his good arm. A thorough evaluation revealed that he had some use of his weakened right leg, his right arm was fully functional but had lost strength. His left arm had minimal sensation and was very weak, whereas his left leg had sensation but barely responded to attempts to master it. Every day were stretches, exercises, range of motion movements and different body positions. He was to sit up in bed now, except when sleeping. Spending time in a chair was also on the agenda.

"This is called hemiparesis," Nostalion explained to Alagos. "Another term I could use is 'combined motor disturbance.' Either way it means that you have received injuries causing weakness, lack of coordination and loss of sensation. The best we know to do is to keep those body parts moving as though you can still use them, to keep the muscle tone and sometimes to help restore function. We do not know as much as I would like about the reasons why these injuries behave as they do. We treat them, and hope they respond."

Alagos smiled at Orophin encouragingly. "Here we go," he grinned.

**

{two months later}

It had been decided about three weeks into their rehabilitation efforts to move them both to a private room. Haldir and Rúmil both agreed that whatever had changed, it had changed for the better and that the two ellyn were having a positive effect on each other. They certainly did not wish to be separated, and this arrangement was easier on both the staff of the healing wards as well as giving both of them a sense of privacy; Haldir and Rúmil were really their only visitors, aside from occasional ones of the Galadhrim that could spare a moment to look in on Orophin. 

However, the strain and awkwardness of their Captain's self-consciousness coupled with them having no idea what to say to him had gradually ensured that fewer and fewer visited. 

Alagos found himself wondering what would become of him. Would he remain here? Would anyone from Imladris ever come for him, and what would they do with him regardless? How he was ever to make his way home, he had no idea. Home was now these few rooms, high in the mellyrn of the Golden Wood.

Orophin privately wondered the same, even though he was home. What if he could never climb into his own talan again? What on earth would he do here, bereft of serving as one of the Galadhrim? There were no answers, and yet somehow at the moment this did not weigh on his mind. There was the many exercises, the friendly rivalry, and the company of Alagos. They could both make their way into chairs now, with one helping the other. Alagos could sit up on his own, and sit at the edge of the bed. With only one cooperative arm and leg, he was off-balance and could not shift his weight into a chair...but if Orophin offered to support his damaged left side, then it was easily managed.

They played cards, board games, and of course made a competition of the exercises, all to pass the time. Catching and throwing cloth beanbags helped restore Alagos' dexterity. If he was very lucky, he could sometimes catch the beanbag with his damaged arm, but never could throw with that side. 

Then came a very important day. They had eaten their food, cared for personal necessities (the staff assisted them, with this) and were playing cards. Suddenly Orophin's eyes widened.

"What is wrong?" Alagos asked, worried.

"I can feel the floor," he whispered. "I can move my toes, a little."

The younger ellon's face lit up in a beautiful smile. "Orophin! I am so happy for you!" 

That was the first time Orophin had to truly acknowledge something of which he was becoming aware at the edges of his mind--Alagos possessed a truly selfless spirit; a beauty of both body and mind. But at the moment, that was pushed aside in the excitement of calling for one of the healers.

"Definite improvement," approved Nostalion after he completed another examination and noted the comparisons on the chart. "We will keep going, Orophin. This is a very positive sign."

*****

"When?" Estelwen asked Glorfindel. "You promised."

"I did," the seneschal said one night at dinner. "Well, there are logistics to consider." He dabbed at his lips with a napkin, realizing that he had deferred having a difficult conversation for perhaps too long. "And...we need to talk."

**

Estelwen and Erestor both sat there, speechless. "I do not know whether to hug you or pummel you," she told Glorfindel with full honesty. "I cannot legitimately hold this against you, because the truth is that I have been a total mess about everything that happened to my son, and your selective disinformation campaign has left me with peace of mind these last months I would not have otherwise had. But...if he is that bad and has not recovered...my poor child," she whispered. "And he will have to find out that worthless hussy never loved..." she groaned in dismay. "I wanted so much more for him. I wanted him to have everything I did not."

"We all want that for our children, Estelwen," Erestor said. "That is universal to every parent. And do not start thinking that because this has befallen him, that he will not find someone meant for him. Have you forgotten what happened to us? You were and still are my miracle." He reached over and took his wife's hand. "Glorfindel, what do we do? Surely you have some idea?"

"I am going to proceed based on a worse-case scenario. I will assume Alagos cannot walk. That means, the need for horses or a wagon. It would be helpful to know if he is capable of riding a horse, with or without another to assist him. But I do not know that, so I must plan for the worst. Then there is the matter of safety. A wagon is vulnerable to attack, compared to riders on horseback...and yet to appearances, orcs have been driven out of the lands between our realms. What would be ideal is to simply be able to exchange meaningful communication prior to making the journey but I have no means of..." He trailed off in his speech, coming to a standstill. "I am an idiot."

"No, you are not," noted Erestor. "Though apparently you have recalled to mind something important."

"My habit of pretending I am other than I am has become tiresome even to me," he said ruefully. "I hope you are in a forgiving mood. In my foolishness I have left all of us in the dark for no reason. My ability to speak with thought is not limited by distance. Though, I have never tried to use it in this way before. I should be able to discuss this with Haldir, may he forgive me too."

"You could find out more information," Estelwen concluded. She was not about to criticize. Not when Glorfindel had already proven to be a series of blessings, to her way of thinking. 

"I think we should talk to Elrond first," the seneschal reflected. "And...the Lady Galadriel is here. If I had to guess, she is probably skilled in this ability. I think what I am trying to say is, we should form a cohesive plan so that this endeavor is as helpful and safe as possible for all concerned. The earliest we could depart anyway is at least two months hence. When the snow is gone from the High Pass, then all the ways are open for the season."

*****

{one week later}

Haldir met with Rúmil, for their usual visit to see their brother and Alagos. "You are not going to believe the conversation I just had," he muttered to his brother, who arched an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"This cannot go further than the four of us but...Glorfindel spoke to me."

"What? How?"

"Here," Haldir tapped the side of his head. "In thought."

"Huh. I have heard of that, but figured no one except maybe the Lady knew how to do it."

"Really?"

"Unpleasant and long-buried memory, but, yes. Really." Rúmil sighed at the recollection.

"Oh. That. Which reminds me. Are you...does Alagos know?"

"Not from me. I would confess my past faults readily, but...I cannot see how it would serve any purpose. And the other matter is, would Estelwen wish him to know?"

"Fair point," Haldir admitted. "Anyway. Here is what I was told..."

 

**

The brothers approached the room to hear the sound of laughter coming from inside. Mildly alarmed, they found Alagos and Orophin in a tangled heap on the woven rug that warmed the floor, both lost to mirth.

"Do we want to know?" asked Haldir, lifting Alagos and keeping him upright with the strength of his arm.

"Probably not," Orophin admitted. "I can almost walk with the crutch. Mostly. Sort of. And Alagos can almost use his right leg sometimes. Mostly. So we wondered if we could make a few steps together if we held onto each other. It was just an idea."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," grinned Alagos. 

"Well, we will note that it was a worthy effort," Rúmil smiled, helping his brother up and ensuring that he made it to the chair before returning his crutch.

"We almost made two steps," Orophin insisted.

"I believe you," Haldir smiled. "Now, I have news from Imladris, so, hush, and I will tell it."

**

"I am sorry, about your elleth," Haldir said to Alagos. "Glorfindel felt you should know."

A crooked smile came over the young ellon's face. "Apparently she was not my elleth, and I was saved from...I find I do not care, Haldir. Maybe I will feel disappointed later on. But it was eight years ago. I was someone else then. Everything has changed and...if this is truly the case, I have been spared an enormous awkwardness and embarrassment." He looked down. "Besides, let us be honest. I am not exactly marriageable material, now. Who would want me?"

Orophin listened to this, and politely averted his gaze in the hopes of hiding his reactions. He was attempting to absorb that in the months to come, Alagos would be returned to Imladris. 

Later that night, in bed, he found he could not sleep, as he replayed the earlier conversation in his mind over and over. The sinking feeling in his chest, when he heard that there had been a courtship. The relative elation, to hear that Alagos was quite eager to abandon the wreckage of it. The stab to his heart, to hear the raven-haired beauty assert that no one would want him. And the utter despair, to think of Alagos leaving here, to return home. Leaving  _ him _ . 

He sat up in bed, to look out at the moon now framed in the window.  _ You have a problem, Orophin _ , he told himself.  _ I did not think I could ever be attracted to one of my own sex but...my heart is speaking plainly enough. I cannot bear the thought of being left alone here. Everything I have achieved is because of him. If he thinks he has nothing to offer, what about me?  _


	20. Honesty

{two weeks later}

"Alright, what is it?" Alagos asked as they ate their morning meal once again in silence.

"What do you mean?" Orophin looked up from his tea and porridge, confused.

"I mean, for days on end now you have been...something. Your mind is elsewhere, apparently. You seem...unhappy. Have I offended you?"

The blunt questions were unanticipated, second only to the realization that he had failed wholly at hiding his state of mind. Orophin lowered his eyes. "I did not realize it showed," he murmured, now feeling fearful and uncertain.

"Well, it does. Though, I cannot know what 'it' is unless you tell me. Please? I am not good for much now, but I can still listen."

Pain washed over the other elf's face. "Do not say that about yourself. If that is true about you, where does that leave me?"

Alagos looked down, chagrined. "I am sorry. You are right. Forgive me. It is...I have been thinking about going home and...I feel lost when I do."

"Then we share the same difficulty, because when I think of you leaving, it is the same for me. I will be left here, alone."

"Maybe it is not fair to the others, my family and friends, but I have come to believe that only you understand," Alagos whispered, looking down at the food that suddenly had lost its appeal. "I do not have to feel like I am different, with you. That I belong...nowhere."

"Yes. That," Orophin added. "But...if I am to be completely honest, there is more, though I am afraid to give voice to it."

Alagos raised his eyes, giving a tiny smirk. "I am hardly going to do anything to you. I cannot even stand on my own, remember?" 

"Alright," Orophin acknowledged with a nervous laugh, trying to gather his courage. "If this is bad I will pray you can forget I spoke the words, for your friendship means a great deal to me. I have had to realize that I felt far too much happiness, when I heard you did not care that the elleth you were seeing had...proven unsuitable. You are beautiful, Alagos, inside and out. The thought of being separated from you brings me back to the edge of despair. And I wondered if in any possible version of the future you might be able to think of me as more than a fellow invalid, because I have...I would…” He inhaled deeply, trying to steady his voice, knowing that his cheeks were already flaming pink. “You believe no one would want you, but...I do. I did not think I would develop feelings for another male, but I..." He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "I feel so foolish. I am not eloquent and I have nothing to offer you except my loyalty. I cannot even say with certainty that this is love, Alagos. I think I am asking if you would be willing to try?" Orophin groaned, and held his bowed head in his hands. He must be completely out of his mind.

"Give me your hand," Alagos asked.

Orophin reached across the little table, careful to offer his left hand so Alagos could use his good side. He could not help but raise his eyes, just a glance, to see his friend’s expression. Kindness, interest were written there.

"That was very brave of you, and the answer is yes, I would. Orophin, I am very young. I have never had a male lover, but..." he shrugged. "Your gender does not matter to me. I feel safe with you. I want you near. And I too have questioned the thoughts I have had, when I consider having to leave you. Please come to Imladris with me? I will not fault you, if in the end you do not want me. I would never want you to stay with me out of pity or obligation. But I have heard that relationships can find their beginnings in shared experience and...we certainly have had that."

"I would come with you gladly, if it is allowed," Orophin replied, not entirely believing he had been accepted. 

"Then I will make it very simple," Alagos frowned, looking now at the rest of his breakfast. "Wait. I need your other hand, or I cannot keep eating." He released Orophin's hand, and used his right hand to extend and position his left arm. His left hand trembled with the effort of trying to reach for Orophin. With a sense of wonder, the ellon slowly ghosted his fingertips over Alagos' damaged hand. 

"I can feel that," Alagos smiled. "The warmth of your fingertips, the pressure when you hold my hand in yours. I would have taken that for granted, before all this happened, but no longer." He shook his head, feeling his heart warm at this simple contact. "What I was going to say is, if you are not welcome in Imladris, then I will stay here with you. And neither mother nor Uncle Glorfindel will find that acceptable, so, I will be very surprised if it is not allowed. Unless the problem is here?"

"Amdír forbade us to have contact with others," Orophin explained carefully. "I swore an oath to his service; all the Galadhrim did. But he is dead, and I do not think Amroth will follow the same course of keeping us isolated from any but those dwelling in the Greenwood. Not to mention...I do not wish to be callous, but we consume resources without contributing. The war greatly diminished our numbers. I cannot believe that anyone will object to sending a warrior who cannot walk elsewhere."

Alagos resumed eating his breakfast. "We will be alright. As long as we are together."

Later that day they had a long conversation with Haldir and Rúmil, who were surprised...and yet not. Haldir promised to relay this new development to Imladris, if he was provided the opportunity. The pair asked for help, wishing their beds to be pushed next to each other so that they might hold hands at night. The healers made no comment, except to explain to Orophin that he could assist Alagos further, if he chose, by massaging his partner's body to improve circulation and ease his discomforts. Both ellyn smiled, declining to mention that they had not yet kissed each other, much less had any kind of intimacy. 

That night, Alagos was given his pain medication before bedtime. He reflected on the new sensation of Orophin holding his hand and gently rubbing his arm. It felt...so very nice. The damaged nerves provided a range of sensations, from normal to tingling to uncertain pressures that left him wondering at the state of his body. Orophin could easily turn on his side now, and had always had the full use of both arms. Alagos knew he still could not accomplish the simple effort of resting on his side, though he had made some small gains in the use of his damaged arm and his partially ruined leg. 

For a moment, sadness washed over him. Orophin had made steady improvement whereas he had not. Or rather, his own gains had proven so minor by comparison; the intellectual knowledge that this would probably be the case did not help just then. Tears ran down toward his ears, as he wondered if having consented to try having a relationship was fair to Orophin--or wise. The inescapable truth remained--he would be permanently disabled, while Orophin would recover far more fully. Was it equitable to saddle him with that burden, out of a desire to have someone to love?

He felt his hand released, and gentle fingers brushing the tears away. "What is troubling you?" Orophin moved closer, edging the top half of his body onto Alagos' bed, to embrace him.

The younger ellon began to cry, confused, unhappy, and caught already in the muddling pull of the pain medicine. "I am afraid. Afraid that this is selfish of me, afraid you will wake up one day and realize that I was a mistake."

Soft lips pressed against his cheek. "No. You do not understand, Alagos. You will never be a mistake; you saved my life. Do you remember what Nostalion explained to you, about what some elves do that are badly injured?" Orophin lowered his head to rest lightly on Alagos' shoulder. "I had determined that I would die, rather than be trapped in a broken body. The brightness of your spirit and your selflessness were what changed my thinking when nothing else could. I already owe you a debt I can never really repay. Please, do not leave me alone and in the dark."

Hearing this, Alagos cried harder, bringing his right arm around to cling to Orophin's back. His elegant fingers wove into the long blond hair. So many jumbled thoughts swirled to and fro, as the medicine tugged him further down. "I am not going anywhere," he murmured with the last of his resistance to the oblivion that was coming. "Orophin."

"I think I love you," the older ellon whispered to the sleeping youth, carefully disentangling himself. He wanted to be closer to Alagos, have the comfort of his warmth. In the end he adopted a strange, contorted position across both bed frames that allowed him to snuggle against Alagos' side, falling asleep at last. 

The following morning, Nostalion was on duty and made the rounds, both smiling and frowning at what he saw. This arrangement was unsafe; if the bed shifted accidentally, Orophin would crash to the floor. Additionally, no one could possibly rest comfortably like that. He found Tireth and returned with her. "This will not do," he said softly. "If they are lovers now, then they must be given a suitable bed. I do not want falls and even more injuries."

"I think we can move them to sit outside for a time, perhaps on one of the balconies. I know where there is a larger bed frame and mattress; if I have help I can switch them out quickly enough. They have helped each other along; both are progressing better than I would have expected."

"Agreed. And I want it to continue."

*****

Later that morning, they were seated next to each other, with Alagos in a special cushioned chair that was able to tilt his upper body backwards. No one told them why, but they were taken out to one of the balconies, dressed warmly and wrapped in blankets. Alagos tugged at the sleeve of the borrowed robe. "Sometimes I miss my own clothes," he pondered. "Then again, I should probably be beyond grateful that I was left with some control over...bodily functions. There are times being like this is not easy, but I do not want to have to imagine needing to be diapered like an elfling."

Orophin smiled. "You do not remember, because you were either unconscious or drugged, but there was some of...that...on the long journey in the wagon. What little I recall of feeling damp cloths between my legs was entirely forgettable, so, I agree with you."

Alagos snorted. "It is probably enough, that I need help just to get to the lavatory."

Orophin regarded at him, a question suddenly coming to mind. "Are you able to feel desire, Alagos?" he asked softly.

"You mean, do the parts still work?" the beautiful ellon returned with a grimace. "It is a fair question. As near as I can tell, partly? My sensation is diminished, but only a little. I think it is why I can still control urination. I have experienced some morning erections, in my time here. But I am not sure what intimacy will be like, now. Something tells me it will not be the same. How can it be? I have so little control over my legs. I am sorry, Orophin. I wish I could give you better."

"Better than what? I am a virgin, Alagos. I have never...with anyone. I was not like my brothers. Too shy, too hesitant. I am no skilled lover. All I can tell you is that when the time comes for you and I, I will try my best."

Alagos reached to take his hand. "Oh Valar, look at us," he laughed. "I do not even know what to do, having only been with one elleth. We have one truly functional leg between us. But three good arms."

"It is not on my list of worries," Orophin answered, enjoying holding hands more than he imagined could be possible. "I do not want a relationship with you for sex, though I will honor and appreciate that if it happens. It is...you, that I want. This. To be at your side."

"I am not sure if I should say this, but that is strangely romantic. Thank you, and thank you for what you said to me last night. There are going to be times when I lose my usual sunny disposition. It meant a great deal to me that you helped me when I faltered."

Orophin twisted and nudged until he was facing Alagos more. "I do not know if you are aware that my parents died long ago, and that Haldir raised Rúmil and I? I grew up understanding what faithfulness looks like, because I saw it every day in Haldir. I was wrong to despair, as I did. I knew better, but I felt so...angry. It brings me joy, to know I can do something for you, however small."

A smile now graced the fair face, and he struggled to reach out with his left arm, so that he might hold Orophin's other hand. 

"You can do it," the Silvan elf encouraged. "Just a little more." When Alagos' fingertips reached him, he laced their fingers together. 

"I like that too," the dark elf said, feeling an emotional warmth spread throughout his chest. "That you make me try. I do not want to be coddled. Well, maybe now and again, but not most of the time."

The blond's eyebrow raised. "We were warriors. Nobody is getting coddled in my patrol."

"Of course, Captain," Alagos laughed, trying to push back against Orophin's hand with mixed success.

"That is really good, that you can do that," he encouraged. "I remember when you could barely make this arm twitch." He gently pushed and pulled Alagos' hands toward and away from him, in an alternating motion, as his partner perceived the challenge and tried to resist him. He did his best but tired quickly. 

"Oh!" Alagos' eyes widened as one of his muscles spasmed painfully.  

Nostalion had stood in the doorway, observing this, and returned quickly with a salve. "The more you can do that sort of thing, the more it will help you," he praised. "But then this can happen; your muscles are still confused with bad signals and long disuse. This salve will help with the discomfort." He helped ease the robe off of his shoulder, and rolled up the tunic underneath to expose the limb, applying the salve generously and massaging it in with firm circular motions. Orophin watched as his friend sighed from relief.

"I can do that," the Galadhrim insisted.

"Please do," Nostalion offered, glancing at the sky. "Rain is coming, I think. We will return you to your room soon."

**

They thanked the staff profusely, at the sight of the new bed. After the rest of their assigned exercises and lunch, they had opportunity to use it. Exhausted, both of them needed to nap, and Orophin helped Alagos to move under the covers before maneuvering to join him. It had indeed begun to rain, and nothing was more inviting than the ability to cuddle against each other under the warm covers. Orophin pulled Alagos against him, and soon enough the two of them settled against each other and were sound asleep. 

Rúmil and Haldir came to visit and stopped short when they beheld this. "That is about the cutest thing I have ever seen," Haldir sighed. "I never dreamed that out of this mess, they would come together.”

"I will be honest," Rúmil spoke very softly so as not to be overheard. "I will miss him terribly, but I think Imladris would be best for both of them. I think they are better equipped to help him there. We became too isolated, here in Lórien, and will have a long struggle to get back on our feet."

"I wish I could argue with you," Haldir replied morosely. "Rúmil, I took a risk yesterday and approached Amroth. We need help, and I do not mean only what can be had from Thranduil, who has his own struggles. I told him that Alagos will be transferred to Imladris, and gained permission for Orophin to do the same. That part was not hard, given that he was only too eager to embrace the idea of farming out two ellyn he politely deemed as being 'indisposed' to others. But I also convinced him to let me go to Imladris before it is too late to perhaps persuade some of the departing elves to come and help us instead of sailing right away. We lost smiths, fighters, hunters, and farmers. Many of those now resting in Elrond’s refuge intend to depart these shores; I asked for permission to try to recruit those who might be kind enough to aid our cause. Plus, there are perhaps other enticements."

"What do you mean?" 

"Have you looked around? There are now hundreds of ellith whose potential mates did not come home. They need males to wed, and we need them to bear children. Thanks to Amdîr's recklessness most of those who died were ellyn newly come of age. Ones like Alagos, but far less prepared and poorly armored. To be utterly blunt, our greatest setback was the loss of skilled workers and potential husbands and fathers. I can at least try."

"I did not notice," Rúmil said ruefully. "My inclinations toward a love life were somewhat...dampened, long ago."

Haldir tilted his head. "It is never too late. Even I have begun pondering if I should reconsider my chronic bachelorhood in view of what has befallen us."

"Please tell me you are not going to go and wed just anyone out of a sense of civic duty. That is going too far even for you, brother."

The Marchwarden smiled crookedly. "I probably make a better cheering squad than participant. Besides, you are coming with me. When Glorfindel sends word, we are going to escort these two north under guard; they will have to travel by wagon. We will be met by those from Imladris; Alagos has been badly missed."

"A chance to leave here and not be headed to Mordor? Sign me up," Rúmil said acerbically.

"I thought you might see it my way," smiled Haldir, pummeling his brother affectionately on the arm.


	21. Winter into Spring

{six weeks later}

"Can I talk to you privately, Haldir?"

The Marchwarden was assisting Orophin with his new assigned practice of walking distances greater than five feet with the use of a crutch; something that usually went well enough until it did not. Nostalion insisted that someone accompany Orophin after the first time he lost his balance and fell hard enough to give himself a black eye. Were it only a question of his leg having been injured, he would have been fully recovered long ago. But the fractures to his hip left him with a 'good' leg that could still betray him without warning. Privately, the head healer believed Orophin would eventually (as in, over the course of the next few years) be able to make close to a full recovery. And yet, if his mobility was not absolute, his future as an active warrior would still be lost.

"Of course you can. Is this the kind of conversation that would be better without you trying to walk at the same time?"

"Probably," Orophin laughed, gesturing to a nearby bench. "It is...I need some advice and you are the only one I dare ask. It is about..." he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I do not know how to be with a male. Physically. I have never...with anyone. Please help me? Tell me what I need to know?"

"Ah," Haldir said, smiling crookedly. "Never with anyone?" he asked incredulously.

Orophin groaned from the teasing. "Please...this is hard for me to ask. I never was...you, Haldir. Or Rúmil."

"I know, and I am sorry," he grinned, patting his brother on the back. "I think it is a sibling thing, I almost cannot help myself on principle. I am compelled to love you unto death and tease you no matter what."

Open laughter came from Orophin, because it was true. He had never had sisters but...brothers were like that. And none of that knowledge kept his cheeks from burning pink.

"To be honest, I assumed you two had already done that," Haldir added cheerfully.

Orophin shook his head. "It is different when you are both...disabled," he said quietly. "The injuries affect what we can feel. How or if we can move our bodies. Whether or not everything works like one hopes it will. I cannot say how long it will take us to get there, but when it is time I want to understand enough so that this is special for Alagos."

Haldir stared at his brother, deeply regretful. "I did not realize, and I am so sorry for my words," he shook his head. "I think that is the problem, none of us do comprehend what you both have gone through. Not really. I will do better, Orophin. Alright. Basically, there are some things about it that are the same as with an elleth. Discovering where your partner most likes to be touched, and how. Communication; being honest about what pleases and what does not. For ellyn, it is important to always have oil, and I will bring you some..."

So much was said that in the end, Orophin worried about whether he would remember it all. It was simple, and yet quite complicated. He thanked his brother, so grateful for the information. Finally they returned, to see Alagos' eyes light up at the sight of Orophin. They were gone such a long time, he had begun to worry. Alagos looked so much like Erestor, that it caused Haldir a moment of disturbance. Separated from his lovers, he had had few encounters during the rule of Amdír, and none during the war. The chance to see them all again...what would he find? 

Instead of dwelling on this, he moved his thoughts along, recalling what his brother had said. "Alagos, when is the last time you left these rooms?" Haldir asked kindly.

"You mean the healing wards here? I have not ever left them, Haldir. I...cannot," he smiled, trying to disguise the awkwardness of the question.

The Marchwarden had been afraid of that. "I am strong enough to carry you, Alagos. I wonder if you would like to be taken for a walk, to see just a little of our woods? If that would be alright with Orophin?"

The open yearning in the youth's eyes made Haldir feel terrible for not having considered this sooner. He had the freedom of their entire realm, while Alagos had none; he was a prisoner in his own body. "Yes, please, if that is allowed?" 

"Of course it is," Orophin answered, perceiving the same as his brother. "Do you need the lavatory, before you go?"

Alagos bit his lip exactly as they had seen Erestor sometimes do. "I probably should." A nervous glance was darted at Haldir.

"I will help you. Just tell me what to do," the Marchwarden reassured.

"Bend down so he can bring his right arm around your neck, then lift him out of the chair and hold him against you. He can balance on his right leg but you must not let go of him. Then bring your arm around his waist to hold him against you, and slowly help him to walk to the lavatory. Once inside you need to hold onto him so he can move his clothing out of the way and seat himself. Then you can leave; he can do everything else on his own. He will tell you when he is done." Orophin narrated all that with dizzying speed.

Haldir's eyebrow raised, and Alagos suppressed a smile. "I think his mouth works fine?" Haldir admonished his brother.

"I do not mind," Alagos grinned, reaching his good arm up to Haldir. "He worries about me."

Haldir said nothing, but winked at his brother, while Orophin simply sat in his chair and appeared incredibly pleased.

 

*****

 

"I have some news, and wondered if you would join me for dinner tonight?" Glorfindel said to Erestor and Estelwen.

"Good news, or bad news?" Estelwen asked, her eyes narrowing.

Erestor placed his hand gently on his wife's shoulder. "He is trying to help us, meldis," came out in soothing tones.

"I know," she said, averting her gaze. "I am just so afraid of hearing that something is wrong."

"Not bad news," Glorfindel soothed. "Good, actually. But unexpected."

Her arms crossed over her chest. "You are going to make me wait until dinner?" Estelwen whined in an extremely undignified fashion. 

The seneschal almost grinned as a precursor to teasing her, until his eyes caught that her hand was trembling from agitation. He looked around, to see Maidhion diligently copying a manuscript. "Come into the back room?" He closed the door behind him, and still spoke very softly so as to keep their conversation private. "I spoke with Haldir last night and it seems we are bringing both Alagos and Orophin back to Imladris."

"Oh, he is going to escort Alagos? That is kind of Haldir, to send him," Estelwen said, reasoning that this was indeed good news.

"No, you misunderstand. Orophin took injuries similar to Alagos, but not as severe. He too cannot walk without assistance. But they have become a couple. They refuse to part from one another, and it is in their best interests to come here; they will receive better care toward their recovery. The healers in Lórien are nearing the end of what they can do to aid them."

"Orophin and our son are lovers?" Erestor asked, wishing to ensure he heard correctly. 

"That is the gist of the thing, yes," Glorfindel smiled, batting his eyes.

"You are slipping, melethron," Estelwen said. "That is not good news; that is wonderful news.

"Haldir is coming too. And Rúmil."

"Valar, this is going to be...they are going to need quarters in which to stay. And furniture that meets their needs and clothing and--"

"Estelwen." Glorfindel tried to intervene. "I already spoke with Lord Elrond. They will first go to the Healing Halls, for a full evaluation. You of all people should know what will happen to them. They are hardly going to escape scrutiny." 

She nodded, but she was barely listening. "Our son is coming home." 

*****

{three weeks later}

The hour was very late, and Alagos was restless. Unable to find a comfortable position, he squirmed and shifted repeatedly. "Are you alright?" Orophin whispered, propping himself up and resting a hand on his companion's chest. "Do you have pain?"

"Only a little. I am anxious about tomorrow. It is so far away, Imladris. I feel worried about how I will manage; I cannot help but remember the torment of coming here. But I want to see my family. It has been so long, Orophin. And nothing is the same, now. I wonder how they will view me, and whether I will be a burden."

"One thing at a time," the silvan elf whispered. "Where do you hurt?"

"My back, especially behind my left shoulder."

"Alright. I am going to help you turn over, so I can massage you."

A sigh of relief accompanied the first touches of Orophin's strong hands, as Alagos murmured his thanks. 

"Now, for the other. I have heard some things you may not have; I have tried to make use of my time with Haldir to badger him for details. We will travel by wagon, together. A mattress much the same as what we lie on now will be inside for us. There will be protection from the sun or inclement weather. A healer is being sent with us, both to care for any pain we might have and to collect supplies from Imladris. We will be guarded; Haldir and Rúmil will travel with us in addition to a full patrol. I will be next to you the entire time, to help watch over you. It is true that there will be motion, but it will not be as when your body was newly injured, Alagos. They will stop at times, and we will have chances to exercise and stretch."

"Hearing it like that...when did I become such a baby?"

"You are not a baby. Your ordinary life was taken from you, cruelly. I think you are very brave. I too feel some trepidation about leaving; these rooms have come to feel very safe. But I also know that it is time to move on to the next thing. We will be with those who love us most, making our way to your family. Your family, who is so blessedly kind and welcoming that a special effort was made to get word of their acceptance back to me so I would not feel anxious." His voice trembled as he spoke those words, for worry over exactly that had gnawed at his mind for weeks.

"You were afraid they would not approve of you?" Alagos struggled to push himself up, managing to turn himself over onto his back again under his own power. Though, he landed rather gracelessly, somehow finding a handhold on Orophin's arm.

"The thought had to cross my mind. You are...well-born, Alagos. Your parents are important elves, and Glorfindel is...do you have any idea, what it means to call Glorfindel 'uncle'? I am nobody. Just a wood-elf."

"Nobody? You are the brother of the Marchwarden of the Golden Wood! Even I know that matters," Alagos retorted.

"Ah, yes, Haldir is well-known and deservedly so," Orophin said gently. "But be honest. Did you know my name apart from his? I think you did not. I am not ashamed of who I am; I have done my best to live with honor and make my brother proud. But there are some who would not deem me a suitable match for the son of Erestor."

"Well whoever  _ they _ might be, who even cares what they think?" Alagos was becoming agitated. "Surely what my heart desires matters most? I love you, Orophin. Please do not talk like this."

Silence fell between them, briefly. "You never said that before," Orophin whispered.

"Well I am saying it now. I love you, I want to be with you, and it is my most desperate hope that what is between us grows and strengthens until it becomes unbreakable."

"May I kiss you?" Orophin asked. He had waited, taken time. These last many weeks they had held hands, during both sleep and waking. He needed to feel certain he was not pressuring Alagos, or taking advantage of him. 

"I wondered if you would ever ask," the dark ellon said, reaching up to stroke Orophin's hair. "I did not want to rush you. I wish very much that you would." 

Orophin lowered himself, slowly, drinking in every moment of the dark eyes glittering in the faint light. Alagos slid his right arm around his lover's back while fighting to have his left arm do the same. "I want to hold you," he pleaded, only to have his eyes well up in appreciation when he felt his weak arm being lifted by means of support underneath his elbow. Then finally, he could gain a hold on Orophin's night-shirt. Soft warmth covered his lips which parted so willingly. The kiss was received with reverence; Alagos knew that Orophin had already lived a long life, and that now the precious gift of his first kiss was being given to him. Tears spilled over. 

"Alagos, why are you crying?"

"I wish I could have somehow known," came the anguished reply. "I wish I had waited for you. Saved myself, for you."

Orophin felt his spirit flood with joy. "No. It was not wrong, that you sought love. It is natural to have wanted a lover and taken one. Especially one so...I am only sorry that it ended so...well, I am actually not sorry at all, except that I do not want you to be sad. You have just given me great happiness. I will cherish you, for I am yours."

Hungrily Alagos pulled Orophin to him for another kiss, demonstrating surprising strength, reeling from the power of his emotions. "I will remain faithful to you," he whispered. He had never promised this to anyone; his connection with Baineth had not progressed this far emotionally. The two of them had tended not to talk much when together; it had been a physical relationship and he had confused the lust he felt for her body with love. But this was something different; the words tumbled effortlessly from him and there was no question in his heart as to his commitment. Desire stronger than anything he had yet felt surged through him, and he thought he felt the beginnings of an arousal. This in itself was a great relief, for he was not certain he still...could. There was sadness, too. Did he really need to declare loyalty to his lover? Where would he go, even if he had a mind to? He tried to distance himself from such negative thoughts, but it was not easy. "I want to touch you. Feel your bare skin. Will you allow me?"

Orophin smiled, charmed and gratified by the restraint and manners Alagos displayed despite his obvious passion. "Yes, in the hope that I am allowed the same."

Their lips met in greedy kisses, tongues mingled and plundered to truly taste each other for the first time. Carefully, Orophin moved his leg over Alagos, straddling him. Haldir had told him that it could be very sensual for their arousals to touch, and that with one hand both of them could receive pleasure at the same time. He felt somewhat eager to try this, and when his partner groaned at the contact he felt encouraged. 

Alagos slipped his hand between them, thrilled to roam Orophin’s skin under his tunic, and feel their shafts aligned together. He busily tugged the ties of their sleeping pants loose, doing his best to push unwanted fabric down and out of the way. Orophin could not stop himself from thrusting once or twice into his lover’s hand. Trembling, he cradled the dark beauty. “I did not know it could feel like this…”

“You have the better portion, Orophin, for neither did I. It was not like...this is different now, on account of the love in my heart.” His good hand continued to caress both of them. “Valar, thank you for loving me.” Again they kissed; Alagos’ arms both worked themselves under clothing to better embrace the body that covered his. Losing themselves, they were content to enjoy discovering each other like this. Just when Alagos thought to initiate something different, Orophin shifted his weight just a little. Searing pain out of nowhere radiated through Alagos’ hip. A stifled cry escaped, and whereas his only thought had been to feel more of his lover’s weight on top of him, he was now in agony and needing him elsewhere, but could not speak. Instinctively, blessedly, Orophin moved off.

“What is wrong?”

“My hip--I am so sorry,” he apologized through gritted teeth. 

“You are hurting.”

Alagos could not answer with the effort of containing his pain; only a nod and a whimper.

Without hesitation, Orophin called out loudly for help, and a healer came immediately. Day or night, full wards or empty, always one of them was on duty. The elleth listened while Orophin related what had happened. 

The part of Alagos capable of caring filled with shame, to be experiencing this, but the rest hurt too badly. He began to try to shift and rock his body; anything to escape the stabbing sensation.

“Try to hold still,” she admonished. “This is no one’s fault; even once initially healed, areas of serious injury can have this happen. We do not know the cause, but it will respond to medicine.” Already she was mixing the dosage for him. “I will add something to help relax you for sleep, and in the morning Nostalion will examine you more carefully.” The moment Alagos consumed the mixture she withdrew, sensing that this had been a private moment that had not gone well for them.

“I am so sorry, Orophin,” Alagos said bitterly. He had never felt so frustrated with his circumstances as he did at that moment. “I wanted so much better for you.”

“No. I want you to listen to me, even though I know the medicine is going to affect you any second now. This was not your fault. We are not like others, Alagos. I accepted that we are going to be different. It does not change that I want you, and I want us. I promise you that we will find a way to enjoy each other, though it may take us time. We may even have to ask for help. Please do not be upset. Give me your trust. You cannot know what tonight meant to me.”

“I do trust you.” Already his speech was slurring from the medicine, and his thoughts were difficult to form. “It is just…” his breath hitched in frustration; he knew it was too late. “Please hold me.”

Orophin cradled his lover against him. “Now and always, if you will have me,” he murmured, kissing the inky hair. No, the encounter had not ended as either of them hoped. But for the first time he had felt desire, and what it was to be desperately wanted by another. And loved. He was beyond content; they would find a way, together.


	22. The Journey Between

"We are doing what?" Estelwen said, insisting that Erestor repeat himself. She had been anxious and distracted for days now. Their original plan should have been (to her way of thinking) that she would travel with Glorfindel to retrieve her son. What ended up evolving was something entirely different. Glorfindel had outmaneuvered her, and she knew it. But as this was Glorfindel, who could manage to use a combination of authority and wheedling against Estelwen in a manner that caused even Erestor to look on in awe, all of it was somehow fine.

"We are going to ride out to meet Alagos and the others," he said. "I convinced Elrond to loan me one of his better horses. We would not really be traveling far; we can meet them in this way at the Old Ford and accompany them the rest of the way here. I thought you would be pleased, but if I am wrong...?"

"No...it is not that. I appreciate what you have planned, very much. But...I do not know how to ride, Erestor. I am too small for anything but a pony. There was this one time and..." she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Honestly that is better left undiscussed."

"But I can ride, and so can Glorfindel; we would take you on either horse. He of course would come with us for our safety. We would be gone perhaps a little more than a fortnight; obviously they are completing the greater share of the journey without us."

"Please do not remind me," she murmured, knowing full well that this was some of the aforementioned maneuvering on Glorfindel's part.  She set down her quill. The only reason this personal conversation was occurring at all, in the middle of the main library, was that Maidhion was busy elsewhere; having been asked to take dictation for Lord Elrond. "I know why he did it, Erestor. Glorfindel, I mean. I am not so obtuse as to not comprehend when a fussing, interfering mother's attentions are not welcome. It is only that I have no ability to speak at a distance with anyone. Or if I do, I certainly do not know how. He is my son; of course I want to know exactly what is wrong with him. I know nothing really, aside from a vague understanding that it is very bad. I do not know what I can expect and so I cannot plan. And if I cannot plan, I cannot do the one thing that might help me ease my mind. This has all just been so very hard."

"You understand that we have to bear this burden in silence?" Erestor asked her tenderly, approaching and lifting her into his arms. "Whatever our pain at what we find has happened to him, we cannot add that to the burden he already bears. He will need us, need to feel that he has not changed beyond our recognition. Need to feel as though he is still somehow the same, even when we all know that is not any longer the case. It may be very difficult, Estelwen. We may grieve bitterly for what has become of him, but he cannot ever see that."

Her expression shifted to one of sad resignation. "I...I have not ever said it to myself quite like that. But yes, I know what it is going to mean. That part of it, anyway. I cannot know what I will feel about it, for that has not yet been tested. I am sure there will be some kind of upset, but what can it possibly be compared to when I believed him lost to me? I still feel...I am not reconciled to how easily I convinced myself that he died. I still feel ashamed. You did not give up on him, but I did. I have shoved all of that into some deep pit, because I cannot face it. Not now, and I do not know when.”

Erestor searched the strange eyes he knew and loved so well. “We are leaving here now and going to our rooms. Nothing is more important to me than wishing to continue this discussion somewhere private.”

**

“It bothers me, a great deal, to hear that you be so hard on yourself. I would not have survived without you there, Estelwen. For all those long years, stuck in Mordor, all the...the...I was so proud of you. You were everything I could not be. And our son too.”

“Well, they are my feelings, and I cannot do any more about them than you can just snap your fingers and erase your own difficulties. I hope you realize I do not particularly want to feel like that? The whole thing…” she combed her fingers through her hair. “It was the worst. The only thing for which I can have any real gratitude is that I did not lose anyone who is dearest to me. We all ended up somewhere safe. But...don’t be too proud of me, Erestor. I don’t know if I will ever be over having even been near all of that. What Elrond did, or Glorfindel, or Alagos--they are the heroes. They actually fought, and did something besides fill out reams of paper.”

He opened his mouth to comment. 

“Do not start. Please? I know it was important. I know someone had to do it. And that changes nothing.”

His expression betrayed hurt. “I was not going to say that,” he said, his voice barely stable. He had already begun to cry.

“I am sorry,” she said, holding him and now feeling awful for the mistake. “This is why I hardly want to talk about the war, Erestor. I cannot govern myself when I start remembering all of...it.”

He shook his head. “You cannot know what it was for me, to see that the High King had fallen.”

“We were all bereft with his loss, but you had more reason that most to feel that. You had something special with him, once.”

“Not once,” Erestor sobbed, holding onto her. “I could not talk to you about it then. While we were there, that night I went to him. I learned that it was not just a night of pleasure for him, so long ago. Ereinion loved me, and he let me go, because he could see that I wanted a wife. And that if he had kept me near to him, I would have stayed with him for his sake. I never knew of his feelings, until I saw them so obviously displayed. Your generosity let me give him one last night of happiness before the end, Estelwen. I find that I have been unable to feel much other than the deepest sense of guilt. The king gave me this life I have had, while living his own in loss and denial. I mean, what I am I supposed to do with that? Had he not perished, I honestly believe he would have come to both of us. If you love Glorfindel, you would have loved the King.” 

Estelwen blinked, perceiving only now the depth of Erestor’s experience. “Was he right, about you?” she asked softly. “You would have given yourself to him, for his happiness over your own?”

Erestor nodded, tears still streaming from his eyes. “He was beautiful, Estelwen. In every way. Like you, and like Glorfindel and Haldir. Except that he was Gil-galad.”

“I am so sorry, Erestor. I did not know.” She held him tightly against her. “I hated this war. I hated everything about it. I hated that it was necessary, and I hate it that if I hate it so much, I should sail to Aman. But I do not yet desire to do that, and so here I am. I have nothing I can offer you, in your grief and loss. Nothing I can offer myself. I can only be here, so that you are not alone in your sorrow.” 

Sitting up a little more, Estelwen brought out a small handkerchief, blotting away her husband’s tears with this. He had never appeared more beautiful to her; his trust and vulnerability beamed forth. In her eyes this display did not reveal weakness but strength and honesty. Her husband, that she counted herself so fortunate to have, would give the last of himself for those he loved and still believe that he had not done enough, or anything at all. Such innocence and innate goodness asked to be met on its own terms. She kissed the perfect cheeks, and along his jawline, only wishing him to know how much he was loved. Turning his head, he captured her lips unexpectedly, as sadness transformed quickly to raw need. Clothing was removed and this perfect ellon covered her body with his, raining little kisses along her lovely and diminutive form. 

A new thought came to Erestor in that moment, an unexpected insight. For whatever reason, he had been granted life. Protected, shielded. He owed it to those who had sacrificed themselves in the defense of good and light to live it. Fully. With love, sharing those blessings when and where he might. He entered his wife in a state of grace and prayer, uncertain what had come over him. Thoughts swirled to and fro, from his passion in the arms of the High King to the example set by his Lord. Elrond, who carried on bravely and seemed at peace with all that had been asked of him. Service, to others. He suddenly understood; this was what Ereinion, and Elrond also, gave in abundance. They were utterly selfless. He could not be them, but they were examples to follow.

His body took over, no longer considering anything except the desire for climax. Estelwen pulled him in deeply, welcoming him as ever. A deep sense of yearning for her rose in him as he felt himself move past the edge, tumbling into the ecstasy of his emission. She writhed as he satisfied her, held securely in his strong arms. “That felt different, somehow,” she murmured. “I love you very much.” Her fingers lightly scratched his back; Erestor loved that.

“Mmmmm.” He grunted his contentment, nuzzling her shoulder.

“The great Erestor, master of words and meanings, can only offer ‘mmmmmm’ in answer to his wife’s declaration of affection?” She poked at his arm, not about to let this go unchallenged. 

“Wanted to see if you were paying attention,” he murmured, smiling. “I love you. I feel better because of you. And now I want to take a nice hot bath with you, because the chief counselor is feeling mildly irresponsible.”

“I second the motion for the nice hot bath, and to amend that there be bubbles added.”

“And the seneschal will not report the counselors for dereliction of duty mid-afternoon if he is invited to join in the bubble bath, for he has been walking all over the place looking for you in order to discuss a small matter concerning our journey.” A grinning Glorfindel leaned against the doorway of their bedroom, having admitted himself with his key.

“Oops,” Estelwen noted, shrugging and too relaxed to care. “If the seneschal turns on the tap and adds the bubbles, the counselors might be inclined to make it worth his while.”

Erestor’s eyes swept up and down Glorfindel’s body, with a level of interest that left little to doubt. When a moment later they heard the water running, Erestor and Estelwen broke out in giggles. Kneeling on the bed, facing each other, they embraced. “I love you,” they both said at the same time, bringing more laughter. 

Gentle arms encircled both of them. “I love you more.”

*****

“Are you well, Alagos?” Orophin inquired for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. The wagon rocked incessantly to and fro, as it could not help doing. Roads were roads.

The bicolored eye opened to regard him, and Orophin’s hand was taken. “Love, the answer cannot change, unless Estë herself can somehow come to my aid. I will survive, but the constant motion is difficult. There is pain, but with the medicine I am comfortable enough. We both knew this journey would probably not be easy for me. I cannot have you worrying this much, or I am going to wish to stop answering your questions. And I do not want to do that. Please?”

The hazel eyes looked away. “You are right, and I am sorry.” He said nothing for many minutes. “I have never had anyone to love before, Alagos. Not like this. Only my brothers, for I was so young when we lost our parents...but brothers are not the same as a lover. I can guess well enough that I must seem...smothering. Mostly I wish I could do something for you, but I cannot.”

“I know. I know that if you could, you would take what is wrong with me for yourself, and I love you for that. And you do several somethings for me. Your company, your care. I have not felt afraid for a single moment since we left Lórien, knowing you are near. That is very different, than my first time in a wagon,” Alagos said softly. “But...I do not want us to get….my emel would say ‘do not get weird.’”

“ ‘Get weird’?” Orophin grinned. “That does not exactly sound like the lofty language of a regarded scholar.”

“Oh, emel has plenty of things to say that are not stuffy. You will love her, Orophin. My mother is nothing if not practical.”

“I already know that much about her,” Orophin smiled, forgetful and unguarded. “She made that much apparent long ago.”

Alagos tilted his head. “What do you mean?” 

“I….” stammered the Galadhrim. “She…” Orophin passed his hand over his brow in nervousness. “I should not have said that.”

“Said what?” Alagos asked more insistently, increasing his grip on his lover’s hand. “What are you not telling me?”

“Something that is not for me to say, Alagos. Something I am not certain your mother would wish known. Except thanks to my thoughtless words I have...oh, Valar. Can I beg you to allow this discussion to be deferred? You cannot know how much regard I have for Estelwen, and...I feel like a failure, for this.”

“Because that does not leave me unsettled and in the dark,” he sighed. “I suppose this is the problem with barely being of age in comparison to all the rest of you. Everyone knows about whatever this is but me, do they not?” His eyes bored into Orophin’s.

“Yes. And I will take it upon myself to talk to your mother, since it is my poor choice of words that has led to this. I am truly sorry, Alagos.”

“I think she and I have a very open relationship with each other,” the younger elf said. “I always felt I could talk with her about anything. Anything at all. Both my parents...there was no such thing as something about which I could not ask. But…” he shook his head. “Do not worry about this. I appreciate that you have so much regard for my mother. If she truly wishes to keep something from me, I will honor that. I owe much of what I am to her. She is...you will be a son to her as well, Orophin, though I suppose…” a snort escaped him. “Good grief, perhaps you are older than mother.”

“Thank you, for your forbearance. And...I cannot answer that. Neither does it matter, to me. To know that I am welcomed…” he shook his head. “You do understand, there are some who struggle with the idea of males permanently bonding? These relationships tend to be less common, and...probably that is for the best, since they cannot beget children.”

“I do know. When I came of age, I asked emel how she would feel, if I were to take an ellon for a partner. I am not even certain why I asked the question.”

“What did she answer?” Orophin wanted to know, curious.

“I recall it being something like, she could care less; what mattered to her was how that person treated me. Not their gender.”

Happiness graced the blond’s features.

“Orophin, you are very beautiful, especially when you smile.”

“I always thought Haldir was the pretty one. I am a little too tall, and am told sometimes that I appear to be out of sorts, even though that is rarely the case.” He tried to subtly change the subject. “Not to mention, next to you even Glorfindel would struggle to be noticed.”

“I know that Glorfindel is handsome. But I am not in love with my uncle, so he is lesser in my eyes. And I cannot help my appearance; I took after father, mostly.”

“So you did, and in doing so, were gifted to be among the most physically exquisite of our people. He might seem ordinary to you, but Erestor is renowned for his comeliness. I am certain a great many were devastated, when he and your mother came together.”

“Perhaps,” Alagos grinned, keeping to himself that he really was not aware how that happened, exactly. “But I would rather feast my eyes on you.”

Orophin blushed, to hear such compliments when no one had ever spoken like this to him or about him before. 

“Flatterer.”

“Yes. Absolutely. Is it working?”

Orophin lowered himself to carefully kiss his lover, at least before the next dip in the road would make that impossible. “Mmmmm.”

*****

{some weeks after}

“That must be them,” Glorfindel indicated the wagon and accompanying travelers in the distance. 

“Well, for the sake of appearances, I suppose I should move to Erestor’s horse,” she smiled, having enjoyed the time using her lover’s tummy for a backrest.

“Probably,” Erestor smiled, easily helping transfer her between mounts. Asfaloth simply looked bored, and Elrond’s stallion Dúrion sighed heavily. 

“Oh, shush, no one asked your opinion,” Estelwen told the horse.

“Now is that any way to speak to this beautiful creature, who has so kindly carried us on his back all these leagues?” Erestor teased. 

“I apologize, Dúrion. Maybe if I did not feel so nervous to see my son,” she admitted. 

Glorfindel met Erestor’s eyes while she was occupied speaking to their mount; he smiled weakly. Erestor saw guilt and regret play through his expression and perceived that Glorfindel felt to some extent responsible for what had happened. Erestor started to speak, only to see the blond shake his head No. “It will be well, Estelwen. Be positive,” the seneschal encouraged. He reached his hand across to her, and she grasped his first three fingers with a smile.

**

Haldir appeared at the opening to the wagon. “Glorfindel and your parents are almost here, Alagos,” he related happily. “Did you wish to greet them outside?”

A nod came in response. 

“He needs more medicine, Haldir. He will not say it, but he is hurting. Please have the healer come.” Orophin’s tone left no room for discussion; his brother went to find the elleth.

“Why do I feel afraid?” Alagos whispered to Orophin. “What is wrong with me? They are my family.”

“Nothing is wrong. There has been change; you are also not feeling your best. But this is a good sign; if they are here it means we cannot be so far from Imaldris.”

“Here is your medicine, Alagos,” the healer offered cheerfully, appearing at the wagon flap. “Swallow this, and then Orophin can help you out. I wish we could stop more often, I am sorry.”

“You are all doing your best, and it is so much appreciated,” he smiled, knowing how fortunate he was. Without all of their care… 

Haldir reappeared, to help lift Alagos’ legs out of the wagon; the rear of it hinged down to make this task relatively easy. Orophin helped him balance, to scoot his way out until he was seated on the rear of the wagon bed. Orophin was able to maneuver his own partially cooperative leg well enough, to sit next to him. “What do you feel you need to do?” Orophin asked his lover. 

“I think I need a little time for the medicine to work. Please stay with me. While I would very much like to greet them standing for their own peace of mind, I am not sure that is wise right now.”

“Do not push yourself,” Haldir advised. “They would not want that. We will be here for a time. I will greet them.”

“Thank you,” Alagos said gratefully. “Stupid hip.”

Haldir smiled; he could hardly blame anyone for being frustrated with such a reality. A few minutes after, the Marchwarden embraced his friends from whom he had long been sundered. “Alagos is not having a good day today,” Haldir explained. “Travel exacerbates his injuries, that are still...he is still recovering. It is difficult for him.”

“We understand,” Estelwen said. “Please, can I see him?”

“Maybe you should go first, alone, Estelwen,” Erestor offered. “We all feel some trepidation about this; surely he is no different. I do not wish to overwhelm him.”

“That seems wise. And kind,” Glorfindel added, now greeting Rúmil with an embrace as well.

Estelwen did not wait for further discussion; nothing was going to keep her from her son for one more minute. It seemed obvious enough where he must be. She walked silently as all elves do, stopping to cherish her first sight of him. Alagos sat next to Orophin, held against him. Their eyes were closed, and his head rested lightly against Orophin’s shoulder. He seemed...tired. Wordlessly she hopped lightly up to sit next to him, weaving her arm around his waist and over Orophin’s. Both ellyn opened their eyes to see her. “It looked like a nice place to sit,” she explained cheerfully.

“Emel,” Alagos said, wrapping his good arm around her. “I have missed you.”

“And I you. Orophin, welcome to our family. We are very happy for both of you.” Her eyes closed and she snuggled against her son. A perfect pull existed, between wanting to burst into tears and cry her eyes out and basic elation. Her living, breathing child was in her arms once more, and the simple joy of this moment relieved so many troubles. Fortunately, she had thought about how this moment might feel ahead of time; enough to head off what would otherwise have made for a complete spectacle.

Orophin felt rather surprised. He had prepared for...something, but not this happy silence. “Thank you, Estelwen. I am very grateful.”

Alagos bent his head down to kiss the crown of his mother’s head, regarding her. “There is something different about you, emel,” he said. “What…?”

Her face beamed. “You are to be blessed with a brother or sister. It was only a few weeks ago. This, you coming home...I am very fortunate.”

“You are with child? Alagos asked, incredulous.

“Well, that is the usual manner in which brothers or sisters happen,” Estelwen grinned. “Unless you can convince me that Lindir is having a surplus distribution of elflings at the storerooms.” 

Orophin burst into laughter. “Please may I help you at times? Not since Rúmil was very small have I helped care for a little one.”

“No sane mother ever refuses help. Though, Alagos was my great privilege to raise and...I will not embarrass my son telling elfling stories.”

“Which is why you are still the best mother in all this world,” Alagos concluded happily, smirking at a mildly disappointed Orophin. 

“I can be very patient,” the blond said sweetly.

“You will need it,” Erestor said out of nowhere. “Lord Elrond will tax that quality heavily, once he determines which exercise you need.”

“And for how any repetitions, and at what intervals,” Estelwen chimed.

“Do not forget which medications, and how often,” Erestor smiled, when it became obvious that he was sharing a private joke with her.

“Oh Valar, I had managed to forget about all that,” Glorfindel said morosely. “Greetings, Alagos, Orophin. We welcome you to...wherever it is we are, on the banks of the mighty Anduin,” he added with a flourish.

“Adar, Uncle,” Alagos said, his eyes shining. He disentangled himself from Estelwen and reached his good arm to his father.

“Do you want to try to stand?” Orophin asked gently.

Alagos nodded. “Adar, will you help me?”

“What do I do?” Erestor asked. 

“I have one uninjured arm,” Alagos explained. “My right side is better. Everything else is...it depends. I need to put my arm around your neck so I can stand. I can balance on my feet but I have to be supported. Then if you stand on my left side and hold me around my waist. Orophin can explain it better, probably. He helps me do this most always.”

“Would you show me first, Orophin?” Erestor asked, under the guise of educational necessity, but truthfully he was terrified of hurting his son.

The all watched the demonstration. “See? Not too hard,” Alagos smiled. “I am sorry. I know this is awkward.”

“If it is what we need to know to help you, then it is not awkward at all,” Glorfindel insisted. “It just...is. Go on Erestor, now you try.”

Alagos was passed from one to the other, which allowed him to embrace everyone. And everyone took note, of Orophin helping lift Alagos’ left arm to make this possible. In the end, Glorfindel had his nephew. 

“Estelwen, I wondered if I might have a word with you in private?” Orophin asked very softly, seeing that Alagos was showing Glorfindel how to help him walk. He knew the powerful seneschal would never allow him to come to harm. “If Erestor would please allow me to take his arm so that I cannot fall?” This was given, as they now had to recall to mind that Orophin too was in physical difficulty; they moved a short distance away. “It is...I made a mistake a while ago, and alluded to what happened so long ago between you and Rúmil. Alagos does not know, and I did not feel it was my place to tell him without your consent. I am very sorry for my mistake. I can only tell you that Rúmil expressed to me that he would not object.”

“Oh, that. Well.” She looked up at Erestor. “Our son is grown now. The thing is, it is difficult to tell that story without revealing a fuller truth. So the real question becomes, are we ready for that to occur? I would think that Glorfindel and Haldir should be allowed an opinion too; it is their privacy as well. For my part...Alagos is a grown ellon, and I have nothing to hide.”

“I consent, though I do not wish for these details to be known outside of our family,” Erestor added. 

“We will ask a few more discreet questions of our friends, Orophin. Either way, thank you for the regard you have shown us,” Erestor said. “I am honored, to know that my son has chosen such a kindhearted and considerate partner.”

Haldir approached. “We should continue our journey until nightfall, perhaps in a few more minutes?”

“Agreed,” answered Estelwen. “Thank you, for this time you have allowed us.”

Haldir shook his head. “I cannot imagine what you went through, all these months apart from him. We did the best we could. I can at least say that much.”

“Then it must have been very good indeed,” she smiled. “I have missed you,” she added, wishing very much to hug him but deferring. Elvendom was probably not quite ready for all of them.

“And another child?” he asked, looking at her more carefully, his face lighting up.

“We have had enough of sorrows,” she opined. “It is time for joy.”


	23. Homecoming

Lord Elrond stood outside the entrance to the Healer’s Hall, the regal master of his domain, waiting for his patients to arrive. Orophin begged to walk there with assistance from his brother and his crutch, so tired was he of the wagon. Alagos was quite the opposite; he had not wanted to arrive in Imladris drugged beyond reason, and had refused a full dosage of his pain medication. Now, he was regretting it. “Please carry me?” he whispered to Glorfindel, trying very hard to maintain his stoicism.

 

The powerful ellon carefully scooped up Alagos, now able to feel the loss of condition in so much of his body. “It is not easy to hide pain from me,” he chided, waiting to see what response he would receive. A guileless one, turned out to be the case.

 

“I am sorry, Uncle. I probably should have listened to the healer. But you do not know what it is like to have to live for months at a time, drugged on account of pain. I am coming home today, and for once I wanted to have a clear head. I am certain it will not be allowed to last for long,” Alagos said in an attempt at humor.

 

“I cannot fault you for wanting that,” admitted Glorfindel. “I would probably choose the same. Would you give your permission for me to remain, while you are examined and your treatment is determined? I will want to help you, and right now I understand very little about what is the matter. I know you are not a child any longer, but I still care about you very much.”

 

“You are my Commander, Uncle. Though, I am afraid my days as a warrior are ended. Of course you may. I have some idea of how much trouble I am likely to be.”

“You will never be trouble in my eyes. I have loved you from the first moment when you were birthed into my hands.”

Alagos grew thoughtful. “How...how is it that my mother...is that not something very intimate? My mother...was my father not there?”

“He was. He was coaching your mother to breathe, holding her as she struggled to push you out of her body. Alagos, you are going to learn many things soon that may be difficult for you to hear, but it is necessary for you to know some truths now that you are partnered with Orophin. Your extraordinary mother is at the center of many of them. And all of them are private to those of us that call you family.” 

“I promise not to tell...whatever it is. You are very close to my emel,” Alagos guessed.

“I am,” Glorfindel admitted. “And your adar. For just as you love Orophin, I love your very unusual parents. And have for a very long time; over a thousand years.”

Alagos blinked. “You...and my mother...and my father?” he whispered helplessly.

“Yes.”

“And no one knows?”

“Only Haldir; perhaps his brothers have guessed at pieces of it. And possibly Lord Elrond, though we do not speak of it openly out of a wish to not disturb his sensibilities.”

“Why Haldir?”

Glorfindel kissed Alagos’ head. “Because, him too.”

“The four of you??”

“Yes, though the rule of King Amdír kept Haldir apart from us for a very long time. But our love for him remains true.”

Alagos reflected further as he was carried to the Healer’s Hall. Carefully, he pulled himself forward to kiss his uncle’s cheek, then leaned his head against his shoulder after a hitch in his breath betrayed his increasing pain.

“We are almost there,” the seneschal promised, masking his own worry and sadness.

**

The questions seemed to go on for hours, and Orophin did not get off much lighter than Alagos. On Glorfindel’s promise that they would get a report as soon as one was to be had, Estelwen and Erestor returned to their rooms, inviting Haldir and Rúmil to join them in order to learn a fuller story. From these, they did not bother hiding their emotions. In the end, Estelwen rose and kissed Rúmil on the forehead, while wiping away tears. “Bless you, for what you did for my Alagos. I can never repay you.” She was quite beside herself, once she heard the description of her son’s initial injuries. 

Erestor...thought. About what could have done this, about what he had been told later of that great battle, and where it was reported that Alagos fought. And he very much wondered if a glancing blow from Sauron himself had dealt this injury. But he kept his musings to himself, not wishing to needlessly upset his wife. There was much to discuss too, about what had become of life in the Golden Wood under the king whose choices eventually became...so irrational, and then cruelly stupid. The conversation was far less guarded between old friends than it might have been at a formal meeting; much was learned. 

**

In the end Elrond stared at Glorfindel with a somewhat helpless expression. “There is additional therapy that we will be able to add,” he related. “One will be hydrotherapy; exercises he can do against the resistance of water in a heated pool. In fact, the best thing of all would be for us to design and build a pool primarily for this purpose; it would be appreciated enough by all here for bathing. But for Alagos it could help him do everything from improve his walking in the buoyancy of the water to strengthen muscles weakened by disuse. He is still healing, and he must not travel again like that for quite some time. Nostalion was correct; the damage is extensive and while he may regain the ability to take a few unaided steps, I do not believe he will be able to properly walk again.”

“Why? What happened?” Glorfindel pressed.

Elrond looked at his patient, then at Glorfindel, uncertain what he should say. 

Alagos saved him the trouble. “Lord, you do not have to be afraid to speak the truth in front of me. I have accepted the permanence of my injuries. There is no point pretending they are not...what they are. My hope is to have less pain, perhaps regain a little better movement, and begin learning what else I might do for an occupation.”

Staring for a moment, Elrond nodded in acquiescence. “From his memories and the evidence here, he received not one but two forceful blows to much of his body. I believe that many of his bones were shattered; he may have had several hundred breaks. There is no way to know, but it is equally a miracle he survived those injuries. We do not fully know how the body works, but obviously whatever mechanism by which Eru created us so that thought generates action has been damaged within him. His control over his injured legs and arm is a little improved but erratic. And without warning, movement or pressure can cause him to experience significant pain. I can help him with this, but...we can only keep stimulating his body and hope that eventually it will respond.”

Alagos nodded; Orophin held his hand tightly throughout this.

“What of Orophin?” Glorfindel asked.

“That is a different prognosis,” Elrond smiled, glad to be able to give something that passed for good news. “And there is more on which to comment for Alagos, but first I will answer your question.”

*****

“Elrond said that the Galadhrim arrived today, with the son of Erestor,” Celebrían explained to her parents. “And that Orophin is likely to need quite a long time but might recover fully. But not Alagos.” Having just come from one of her regular strolls with the Lord of Imladris, she was thoroughly happy with life in general.

“That is certainly good news,” Celeborn commented. “I always liked Orophin. He was...faithful, dutiful. Like Haldir, but more content to simply do as he was asked, hidden in the shadows. He was ever willing to work hard at rather thankless tasks, and gave much unheralded service to his fellow elves. I would not like to think of his loss. I do not know Erestor and Estelwen’s son, but it grieves me to hear this. So young...and yet that is what comes of war against evil,” he said bitterly.

For her part, Galadriel felt interested in other topics. “Your interest in Elrond continues to grow, Celebrían?”

“Yes,” the silver-haired elleth smiled. “He is beautiful, nana. Selfless. Brave. Hardworking for those he protects. Much like I felt you and father were, when we lived in Lórien.”

“Do you understand what it will mean, to win his heart?” Celeborn asked carefully. “I could not wish for a finer match for you, if you choose each other. But...you will never fully be his, nor the other way around. He has taken on a heavy burden, with Gil-galad’s passing. To be wed to him will be a life of sacrifice for you as well.” He stared into Galadriel’s eyes with mixed love and regret.

“Why do I suddenly have the feeling that we are talking about more than just a romantic relationship?” Celebrían queried her parents.

“You know what happened to Celebrimbor?” Celeborn asked.

A grimace spread over her lovely features. “Who can forget, adar? That was...horrible.”

“I mean more specifically, do you understand why he died? What he died protecting?”

“His rings,” Celebrían said quietly. “Especially those meant for our people.”

“Yes,” Galadriel continued. “But what even fewer know is that to possess them comes at a price. The exact a toll on those who keep them. Only now, with Sauron defeated, are the elves of Middle Earth now able to consider what good may be wrought with their power. For in them are gifts of protection, and preservation. But they can never be discussed, and are best kept secret. We cannot know what will happen in future years, since the master ring yet survives. No one can see that far ahead, except perhaps Vairë herself.”

Celebrían weighed what she was being told, when Celeborn spoke again. “I just want you to go in with understanding, iell. Before your heart is lost to him, I want you to have weighed the consequences of sharing your wedded life with one who keeps a ring of power. For it is not always easy.”

Now she stared at her parents, her gaze shifting from her father to her mother, and back again. “You and mother…” Celebrían stopped, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Really?”

“Really,” Galadriel told her daughter. “I am sorry, for this reality. It does not mean you cannot have love and a satisfying marriage with one you deeply cherish,” she said, not removing her eyes from her husband. “But it is true. There are challenges, and perhaps an…”

“Extra measure of strain,” Celeborn concluded, even as he walked to his wife to kiss her golden head.

“Valar. Thank you both,” Celebrían concluded. “I see I now have a great deal to...ponder.”

“Your mother is always good for that, you know. Creating pondering.”

“Am not,” Galadriel huffed indignantly.

“Are too,” Celeborn grinned.

Celebrían laughed. “I think the real question is, does poor Elrond have any idea what sort of family he is considering courting?”

“What? We are perfectly normal,” Galadriel said confidently.

Celeborn rolled his eyes. 

Chuckling, Celebrían walked out of the room to hang up her wrap.

*****

{a few days after}

“So, am I finally going to hear this great secret that Orophin could not tell me?” Alagos asked cheerfully. “I think I weathered the other well enough, though I was a little surprised. But only a little. The more I thought about it...I could see it. I never considered how inclusive you all are with each other and...not many others are like this, I would guess. But I...you all made me feel so loved. If you are happy, how can I possibly complain?” The bubbly chatter coming from the dark beauty was a refreshing change, brought about by the skill of Elrond’s prescriptions for pain. The medicine was far more refined, far better able to reduce his discomfort while leaving him clearer-headed. 

Estelwen smiled, though everyone else looked slightly less comfortable. Rúmil in particular, who sat next to his mother, bore an unusual expression. Resignation, peace...and pain, if that was somehow all possible at once. On the other side of Estelwen was Glorfindel, while Erestor and Orophin had their positions on either side of Alagos.

“There is a short version and a very long version,” Rúmil began softly. Estelwen took Rúmil’s hand in both of her own, which earned a raised eyebrow from her son. Perhaps he could not be blamed, if he now wondered whether Glorfindel had neglected to mention an extra lover. “Over a thousand years ago, before your parents were wed, your mother came to live in the Golden Wood for a time. While she was there, your mother and my brother Haldir were lovers, though not in an exclusive manner. Your mother loved Erestor and wished for a relationship with him, but did not yet know that her feelings were returned. 

“I was a very different ellon then. I was bad-hearted, Alagos. A terrible person who took pleasure in hurting others, caring only for drinking too much and my own selfish interests. I asked to see Estelwen for an evening, and drugged the wine we both consumed. I wanted to have pleasure with her, and somehow thought giving both of us medicine that would lower our inhibitions and increase desire was a good idea. But I was already drunk and...I really cannot explain myself so I will not attempt to. When I did not get what I wanted from that act I insulted and humiliated her horribly, abandoned her in the forest, and left to go drink more. I said disparaging things about her to my fellow comrades-in-arms. In the meantime, she had to try to find her way back to her lodging, badly affected by the drug. While climbing to her talan she fell, breaking bones and hitting her head very hard. Glorfindel found her injured the next morning, for it was time for her to return to Imladris.”

A change came over Alagos as he listened; what he thought was to be some amusing anecdote that was mildly embarrassing to his mother filled him with anger. And yet he looked around him at everyone from his father to his mother--who at the moment was holding the hand of the one confessing these things. Were all of them completely mad? Did he even know any of them at all?”

Glorfindel held up a hand, for Rúmil to stop for a moment. “Alagos, listen to me. The feelings you have now are the same as I had then. You must be able to perceive from our collective demeanor that everything has changed since the time of which you are hearing. Your mother exacted a heavy price to be paid in order to grant forgiveness for what Rúmil did. This was done, though it took centuries.”

Estelwen broke in, while Erestor placed his hand on Alagos’ shoulder. “Son, what happened bound us to each other in difficulty and grief for a very long time. Rúmil earned my forgiveness long ago by truly changing his ways, becoming the beautiful spirit that he now is. Surely you know some of that light, for you are in love with his brother. Orophin reflects a similar grace. For all of us, it is our past of long ago. We six are bound by love and shared experience, though it was not always good. I know this is difficult to hear, but we are telling you so that you may join us as equals. I will always be your mother, but you are grown now. I would like to count you among my intimate friends, all of whom are in this room; and yet you would never understand us fully without knowing all this occurred.”

Alagos said nothing but simply stared at Rúmil, remembering the kindness he had been shown when he was lying in bed, afraid, hurting, and alone. Without hesitation, Rúmil rose, and knelt in front of the young ellon. “Please forgive me, that I did these things to someone you love so much. I would give anything to go back, and have spared all of us such pain. But I cannot.”

Orophin bowed his head, for he well remembered his own misery. Returning from patrol, finding Haldir and Rúmil gone, and a terrible letter on the bed of his empty talan. Unable to find out much of anything more. Those were some of the worst months of his life. And yet in the end these events forged Rúmil anew, as he should have been.

“This is very painful to hear,” Alagos admitted. “And there is still much I do not understand by way of details, though I suspect any of you could answer my questions. I may need some awhile to absorb this, and master my feelings. But if my mother has forgiven you, I have no right to do otherwise. You were kind to me, Rúmil, before you knew who I was. I am in your debt, for the care you gave me.”

“Thank you,” Rúmil whispered, touching his forehead to Alagos’ bent knee before rising. 

Turning, Alagos noticed Orophin’s distress. More than anything else, this provided an awareness that each of them here likely had their own stories and difficulties, and that perhaps he could learn much if he were open to hearing the truth. He would manage, in time.

*****

{a month later}

Elrond watched Alagos in the pool, as he struggled to walk next to Orophin. “He is doing better,” the Lord opined to Glorfindel as they stood alone together. “But he still lacks meaningful control over his legs. And his arm, I would like to see that much improved.” Elrond now spoke very pointedly. “He could have a much better quality of life if he had the full use of both arms. It would enable him to do a great many things, help himself more, and improve his interactions with others. There is even an invention with which Gildor has begun tinkering for him. A chair with wheels that the user controls with their hands--but it cannot be safely managed without use of both arms. And there is more. He and Orophin need assistance of another kind.”

“What do you mean?”

“In all this time, they have been unable to complete the act of love with each other, though they very badly want this,” Elrond said, his eyes still fixed on his patients. “I am not the best choice for offering such counsel. And yet I am filled with unhappiness, to have learned this aspect of what they have been denied.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I am teaching you about the realities of patient recovery.” Elrond insisted innocently as he walked off.

The seneschal glared mildly at his Lord, though in a few moments his face had softened again. He watched Alagos splash into the water again, and contemplated what Elrond had just said while Orophin righted him. So many times, Alagos would begin to lose balance, and reach out for Orophin’s body to try and steady himself. Really he could not manage; always the weak left arm basically refused to move fast enough, leaving him effectively helpless to arrest his falls. With a colossal sigh, he shook his head to himself. He knew why he had been told. He also did not understand why he was still so hesitant to use what he had been given.

**

“Alagos, I would like to try something. And both of you, I would like the Something to remain in this room,” Glorfindel asked, once he had helped them back to their quarters.

“Try something what, Uncle?” Alagos asked, now propped up on their bed, very tired. The exercise in the pool always exhausted him, though while he was in the water it never seemed to be the case. He liked it a great deal, for in there he felt a little more...normal. A little more free.

“I would rather not say, because…” he did not wish to verbalize, ‘because I do not know if I can heal you of injuries so severe.’ “Because I do not know whether it can help at all, but I would like to try.”

“Will it hurt?” asked the dark ellon cautiously, trying to hide his fear.

“No. That much I can promise you. There will be no pain.”

“Alright, then. What do I do?”

“Nothing at all, except allow me to hold you.”

Orophin watched this exchange, baffled. He too was tired, though not so much as his lover.

Glorfindel drew his nephew into his arms, ignoring the pang in his heart at the childlike manner in which Alagos was forced to reach to others for assistance. Closing his eyes he freed his spirit in prayer to the great ones who had granted him these gifts. A plea went out, for at least an end to his nephew’s physical pain and perhaps the restoration of his arm. He knew, in his heart, that to repair the legs was beyond his ability. If there was healing for them, it was across the sea, by the power of the Lords and Ladies. Not here. The seneschal’s physical form seemed to almost fall away, replaced by a being of light. Orophin gasped, unable to comprehend what he beheld. He had heard rumors about Glorfindel, but this?

For Alagos, the experience was very different. His vision filled with light, but his body and mind were consumed in purest love. Power coursed through him, changed him. He was unaware, of moving both his arms to hold onto Glorfindel, as if he never wished to let him go. He had not known. Could not have known, that this was the one he called ‘uncle.’ Trembling, he burst into tears from the intensity that coursed through him.

Orophin heard his cry, and despite his confusion lurched across the bed to close the distance between them. His only thought was to offer support, reassurance; what was happening here was beyond his ability to discern. Just as suddenly as it began, everything ceased; and a very ordinary looking Glorfindel held Alagos in his strong arms. Still the young ellon wept, overcome. Orophin rubbed his back, while Glorfindel stroked his dark hair, soothing him. 

“My Lord?” Alagos asked in an unsteady voice filled with reverence. “What was that?”

Glorfindel gently transferred the youth into Orophin’s arms. “That was...me, Alagos. The Valar changed me, before I was sent to these shores.”

“Are you not an elf?” he asked, his eyes wide in wonder.

“I am, but I was given unusual blessings. Gifts I am still struggling to...reconcile. That is why I prefer no one be told, of this. More importantly, is anything better? Has anything changed, for you?”

Alagos turned his body, perceiving with delight that he could fully feel his left arm. His first impulse was to wrap his arms around Orophin, a noise of surprise and happiness coming from the recipient of his affection. “My arm does what I wish it to!” he exclaimed excitedly, holding his lover for the first time in a normal fashion. “Orophin...I prayed but never dreamed I would be able to do this…and nothing hurts. Not even a little.” Again he turned. “Uncle, I do not know how to give thanks to you. I cannot repay you,” he whispered.

“You just did,” Glorfindel said, rising, and kissing the crown of his head. “I think the two of you deserve some time alone, now,” he smiled. “We will speak more later. I promise.”

The seneschal closed their door behind him, hearing already the soft noises of urgent kissing. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. He had been greatly blessed, to know the joys and pleasures of intimacy. And now he had enabled Alagos to have the same, that had been cruelly taken from him. For a moment he remained, motionless, until he realized how badly he wished to be alone, and pray. For wisdom, guidance, insight. Taking lesser used paths, he returned to his rooms.

**

“I do not want to let you go,” Alagos exulted, pulling a flailing and laughing Orophin onto him. “This is a miracle.”

“You are suddenly much stronger,” a very contented ellon murmured between kisses. “I am so happy for you. For us,” he added in a whisper. 

“Could we?” Alagos pleaded. “I have wanted you for so long. I know that earlier we had too many difficulties, but now? You will not hurt me, I feel sure of it.”

“You are not too tired?” Orophin smiled, moving a lock of the dark hair out of the way. 

“Not for this.” The evidence of his desire was already quite obvious.

“Well, then we should do this properly.” He pulled off his tunic, and slipped out of his leggings, moving around the bed to arrange what few items would be helpful.

“I can do this myself,” Alagos murmured mostly to no one, beyond pleased with the restoration of his arm. “No more needing help to dress. No more being unable to turn over. No more hardly being able to move.”

“I did not mind, you know,” Orophin said quietly, smiling to see that Alagos had managed to remove his own breeches. The once exquisite but still beautiful body waited for him. His legs were thinner now from disuse, not well-muscled and powerful as they once were. But this did not matter to the silvan elf, who saw only the perfection within. “I would do anything for you. Anything you need, anything I can do to help.”

“Anything?” The strange eyes smoldered with want. “Mmmmmm.”

“Well that is hardly going to be any kind of strain,” Orophin grinned, still surprised to see the force of his partner’s carnal interest the few times it had ever had opportunity to manifest.

“Maybe you will change your mind when I demand to be taken again and again, until you lack the strength to stand.”

Orophin blinked, not having considered this. Sexual urges had never dominated his behavior, but then again there had never been someone about whom he cared for so much. Or anyone who would ever think of him in such a way. Or look at him like he had seen others look at Haldir. These notions raced through him, causing a painful level of arousal that demanded attention. He knelt near Alagos, considering what to do next but was denied the opportunity. Now that he had the leverage to move his upper body, Alagos was on him in a moment. A hot mouth surrounded him, giving an enjoyment he could hardly believe existed. “Oh!” Orophin was immediately helpless against the onslaught that amounted to a torment in the best possible manner. Some minutes later, breathless and spent, he had collapsed into his lover’s arms; the dark ellon wore a satisfied smirk. “Valar, how did you know to do that? That was...that was…”

“I have wanted to do that since you first claimed my heart,” Alagos whispered tenderly, stroking his hand along the pale hair. “It was a pleasure my first lover gave to me,” he explained. “And though I would in some ways like to forget about her entirely, she did...she had…” His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. “It might be easiest to say that she did not lack knowledge of the arts of sexual gratification.”

“At the moment I am not finding myself capable of anything resembling jealousy,” Orophin noted, recovering himself. “I almost want to ask what else she did, but fear that would be an insensitive question.”

“You may ask me anything,” Alagos shook his head. “You are my mate. And, I am not so certain all of her talents were adaptable to what ellyn need. I am nearly certain that you know more of what to do than I.”

“Well. We will find out.” Orophin leaned in to kiss him. “I will do my best, Alagos.” He caressed his partner’s unsatisfied manhood. 

“I just want to be yours. It is all I have ever wanted, and despaired of having. I have always appreciated the pleasure you have given me.”

“You do not have to explain, I have wanted the same. This is a great blessing.” Orophin proceeded very slowly, wishing to prepare him as he had been advised. More than an hour elapsed, before their bodies joined. Alagos could now hold back his own legs, to make the union possible. Orophin entered so slowly, determined not to hurt his love. At last he was buried fully inside of his mate, as he had so yearned to be. “You feel so good to me. I will never forget this moment.”

“Please move. Kiss me. Make me fully yours, Orophin.”

The older elf looked down to see lust for him alone, intense ardor. Lack of fulfilment…it did something to him. “Like this?” A few careful thrusts turned rapidly into something far more vigorous. A torrent of fascinating noises rewarded his efforts. 

“Yes. Like that. Please? More of that. Oh, too wonderful...harder, Oro. Faster.”

“What happened to my imaginings of fragile virgins?” 

“I do not know, but this virgin begs you to keep going. Please, I am so close.”

Talking ceased, as both strained toward completion. A cry broke from each of them, as their passion hovered at its height. At the last moment, Orophin had reached to stroke Alagos’ manhood, watching in fascination as his love writhed and gasped in physical ecstasy, his silvery emission spurting onto his chest. They panted for air in each other’s arms. Orophin reeled, at last having spent himself inside of his lover’s body. Alagos did not know what to think, except to smile at the ache already beginning in...certain places. This, however, was a pain from which he did not wish to ever be healed. That and, how different this was than with Baineth. 

The experience was not the same, when shared with a loved one. And they had waited for so long. Would he ever have been able to fully have Orophin, before his uncle aided him? In the manner they had just done, beforehand he could not raise his legs or hold them. With only one working arm, he could never have kneeled and balanced on all fours to accept his lover. Maybe he could have just laid there, on his belly, but there was still a risk of the terrible pain, from the weight on his damaged hips. Without the precious gift they had been given...perhaps they one day could have managed something, but mostly they would have been limited to what they had long known. The skill of their hands, and sometimes Orophin’s mouth. This had been incomparable.

**

Hours later, a knock came at the door. They had fallen asleep; Orophin’s final accomplishment had been to pull a light covering over their nude bodies. Groggily, they sat up to see Glorfindel had returned to them. In his hand he bore a small jar, handing it to Orophin. “You may find that to be helpful,” he smiled. “Intercourse can leave the recipient sore. Especially new lovers.”

Alagos moved a little and winced. “I thought I wanted to feel this,” he said. “Perhaps I spoke too soon.”

“This is why you have a lover,” Glorfindel smiled. “Be good, and let Orophin put some of that to use.”

Obediently he shifted his body to allow for...access. Alagos tried to pretend that he was not finding his partner’s touch and application of the medicine to be completely erotic. Glorfindel laughed. “There is no shame in lust,” he told his nephew, smiling. “Enjoy this. Enjoy each other.”

“Thanks to you, we now can. I do not understand how it was possible, Lord Glorfindel, but with all of my heart, thank you,” Orophin said. “For what you have done for him. To see him so happy; I lack the words to express my gratitude.”

“You are welcome,” Glorfindel replied, for the first time able to accept what had been said with grace instead of wishing to ignore the thanks or diminish it for the sake of his own comfort. “I wondered if I might ask what happened? What is better?”

Alagos blushed a fetching shade of pink. “I never made it out of the bed, Uncle. But I will try now.” He scooted to the edge of the bed, blushing harder. “Er, perhaps if I had trousers?”

Orophin snickered, enjoying this thoroughly. Glorfindel procured the missing item of clothing from the floor, dangling them from his fingers. “Here,” he said, but kindly. “See what you can manage by way of your legs?”

A few moments’ struggle revealed that nothing was too different about the function of his lower limbs. “I think they are the same,” Alagos said cheerfully. “But with my arms better, it hardly matters. Truly, this is wonderful, uncle. And to have had no pain…” he whispered.

“Try to stand, for me?” the seneschal asked. 

The arms reached, to encircle Glorfindel’s neck. But this time, he was able to pull himself to his feet with better balance. A little while later revealed that it was as his nephew said. “Standing is easier, but it is on account of my arms. A little more balance, and confidence.” He stood facing his uncle, holding onto his forearms. “You have given me my life back. I will work hard to make something of myself. Be helpful. I will try my best to be worthy of your gift, my Lord.”

Glorfindel tilted his head, smiling. “You,” he said, pointing to Orophin, “are a very good archer. And you, Alagos, excelled with the sword. I will perhaps ask for your help as teachers, from time to time. But right now, both of you still need to focus on your rehabilitation.” He kissed his nephew’s forehead. “You do not need to earn my approval, not after your brave sacrifice. I have always been proud of you. Now, more than ever.” A pause ensued, in which Alagos appeared both pleased and embarrassed by the attention he was receiving. “I had returned to check on you, but also to ask if you would dine with me tonight; I asked Estelwen and Erestor also. Unfortunately Rúmil and Haldir already have plans; apparently his attempts to sway some elves toward Lórien are having some success. I hoped you might wish to join us?”

What charmed Glorfindel most was how Alagos answered. “Please, can we Orophin? I would like to very much.”

“You do not need to ask me, silly; this is your family. Of course we can.”

“But...it matters to me what you want. A great deal,” the younger ellon said quietly. “I love you.”

Orophin moved to be near him, only with a little clumsiness. “I will endeavor every day to be worthy of your love, Alagos. You are so dear to me…”

“You two,” Glorfindel said, entirely pleased with the regard they showed one another, “are beautiful. Erestor or I will come for you. Right at sunset. Until then I am certain you have Lord Elrond’s exercises with which to occupy the time.”

“Yes, exactly,” Alagos grinned. “Exercises.”

Orophin sighed, knowing which ones they needed to do as opposed to that which Alagos would wish. 

“Well. I leave you both in the best of care,” Glorfindel proclaimed, already pondering how he might convince the cooks to make baked apples for their dessert.

**

Glorfindel assisted his nephew, while Erestor came along too just in case Orophin needed the help. But he was greeted first by an impressive hug from his son, that startled him. “What? How?” he asked, stunned, not comprehending. 

Alagos and Orophin did not know how to answer, having promised their silence. Glorfindel projected an aura of charming innocence. “I might have had something to do with that, Erestor. But I would like that kept between us. I am still...learning to...that.”

Only Glorfindel witnessed the brief but immense struggle within Erestor, and silently berated himself for not preparing him. It was not fair of him, to have said nothing. There was just enough difference between being a father and an uncle, that he had failed to perceive what this would mean to the parent of an injured child.  _ I am so sorry _ , he apologized silently to Erestor.  _ I wanted you to be surprised, and I did not think enough about your feelings beforehand. To be truthful, a part of me still struggles to believe that it...worked. _

_ Do not express regret to me,  _ he heard back.  _ Not for this. But you must somehow warn Estelwen. It is not good for her, with the baby, to experience emotional strain. With all that I am, thank you for what you have done for my son.  _

Glorfindel blinked a few times, and nodded. “Come, before our food can get cold,” he admonished. Erestor rolled his eyes at this age-old and completely illogical worry on the part of his melethron, but smiled.

*****

{a few weeks after}

“You have been here for weeks and yet we have hardly seen you, Haldir,” Estelwen complained when at last the Marchwarden could be successfully cornered to share a meal with them. Just the four of them, as they had not had in over a thousand years. “Was it something we said?”

“No,” Haldir answered, kissing her forehead. “Of course not. I have felt driven, to make the most of my time here. Círdan helped me, and so have Celeborn and Galadriel. I do not mean this as any kind of slight but...you cannot understand what happened, in Lórien. I am glad, you cannot understand what happened. We are all but brought to our knees, by the war and by...what happened before the war. And..” his voice shrank to almost a whisper. “I cannot say that anything will be better under Amroth. If his father was unbalanced bordering on malicious, his son is simply...unfit for his current command. He is adrift, and yet…” his hands waved in the air in frustration. “I am no usurper, nor am I meant to rule or direct our people. I am a warrior, but I cannot stand idly by and do nothing when this opportunity is given me to make a difference. We need the wisdom of capable minds. The skill of able hands. Guidance, a chance to regrow. It is my belief that the ones who have agreed to make a new home with us, at least for a time, can turn the tide.”

“Forgive me,” Estelwen asked. “I might have realized these things, had I given them thought. I am afraid my mind has been more focused on selfish preoccupations. You are as ever faithful, and noble. I am proud of you, Haldir.”

The Marchwarden held her hand, terribly cognizant of the gulf that had formed between them. Between all of them, for he had been too long sundered from these ones that were dear to his heart but...he had been forced to lead another life. In the years when those in Imladris had grown closer than ever to each other, he had been alone with his brothers in the Golden Wood. The forest that was arguably his first love, in a way none other could replace. “I did not mean that to seem...as filled with judgement as it probably did,” he offered contritely. 

“You have had to take on the mantle of other responsibilities and priorities,” Glorfindel said, understanding in a manner that his scholarly friends perhaps could not. 

Haldir nodded, looking down. “I feel very much as though my life is not exactly my own, just now. I have thought of you here, prayed for you, hoped you were well. But as the years wore on in silence…”

“You did what you needed to do,” soothed Glorfindel. “And perhaps now you are uncertain where your heart is leading you.”

Estelwen tilted her head. “Haldir, have you avoided us because you do not wish to be intimate, and felt that would be expected?”

Glorfindel’s eyebrow raised. So much for that assumption. 

Haldir’s hesitation provided enough of an answer. Estelwen continued. “I love you, Haldir. You, not ‘you for the pleasure you have given’. I will support you in any manner you need. The other is unimportant by comparison.”

The Marchwarden appeared reluctant to respond. “While I thank you for your words, I do not fully see how something important to all of you can be...unimportant. You have...kept on with each other, is that not so?”

“We have,” Erestor admitted. “And you were missed. But Haldir, especially after the war...how could any of us not understand that circumstances can change? That we can enter periods of our lives where our needs become something other than they were before? I feel the same as Estelwen. Perhaps another way of expressing it would be, our lust for you is lesser than our love for you. If your needs have become different, then that is really the only thing that need be said. I take no offense, nor does it diminish the regard I have for you. You cared for our son, our flesh and blood, when we could not. I will not ever forget that I am indebted to you.”

Repressed tears pooled in Haldir’s eyes. “It has been difficult. So many of the Galadhrim were cut down and died, as I feared they would. Fighting under Amdír’s command was a living nightmare, and it is a miracle any of us survived. Thranduil was a hundred times better even in his inexperience, but it changed nothing for the many we lost. I still see their faces. I have not been able to feel...whole.”

Glorfindel listened to this but said nothing. Not until after the dinner, when Estelwen and Erestor said their words of parting. “Stay with me, Haldir. Only for a short time,” he reassured, not wanting his friend to believe this would be an unwanted attempt at a seduction. “There is something I wish to give you before you leave.”

**

When he led his people out of the valley on the return journey to Lórien some days after, Haldir carried the seneschal’s gift with him. The peace in his heart, and the lingering sensation of a kiss of blessing to his forehead. Still he reached up frequently to touch that place with his hand, smiling. Content, and secure in the knowledge that he was yet loved.


	24. Family

{two years later}

The patter of tiny feet ran across the library floor, and Alagos stifled a smile as he bent over his desk. Any second now....

“Want up, Alagos!”

The ellon raised his head from his illustration, pretending to peer to and fro. “Huh,” he said absently. “I thought I heard something, but I must have been imagining it.”

“But I’m right here,” a frustrated little voice piped, tugging at one of the long locks of his brother’s hair. 

“Oh dear, I will have to talk to emel and adar,” Alagos said. “I am afraid the library must have mice.”

“NOT MICE!!!” the voice shrieked. Erestor stood up, crossing his arms, glaring at his eldest now that the volume had become stratospheric.

“Sorry, adar,” Alagos whispered, whisking Elgalad into his lap. “Oh look! Ai! What is here! It is a little brother!” He hugged the elfling, and covered his cheeks in kisses.

Estelwen raised her head, catching Orophin’s eye. She idly waved her open hand in a swatting motion, bringing a smirk to the blond’s expression.

“Your mother thinks you need a spanking,” Orophin murmured softly in Alagos’ ear. “For teasing your brother in the library. I tend to agree.”

“Depends,” Alagos retorted. “If you are the one offering the discipline, sign me up. But if it is emel, then we really will see how fast this wheel-chair can go.”

Orophin kissed his love’s head, and stood back to examine his work. “That really is very good,” he praised. “You are gaining skill all the time.”

“I have an excellent instructor,” Alagos grinned, nodding toward Maidhion, who appeared generally pleased and wisely was ignoring absolutely everything that was being said. Elgalad had settled down, and was now contentedly sucking his thumb while nestled against his brother’s chest. “And it would also appear that I am taking a break.”

“I will be done soon, then it will be time for lunch. We will all eat in the dining hall today?” Orophin looked around for consensus.

Erestor smiled and nodded, whereas Estelwen murmured something like “mmm hmmmmm.” 

Seating himself again, Orophin picked up his quill. At Rúmil’s suggestion, he decided to see if he could qualify to apprentice under Erestor as a copyist. And like his brother, he showed some aptitude with lettering that continued to refine itself over time. Whereas Alagos discovered a surprising talent for drawing and color, and soon found himself being instructed to work as an illustrator of...anything at all that was required. It was a fresh start, for both of them. And of course, the couple spent a great deal of time with the new arrival that was both Alagos’ brother and the child he and Rúmil would never have; they cherished Elgalad. Glorfindel had more or less insisted that Alagos be present at his brother’s arrival into the world. 

Erestor watched all these little exchanges and smiled contentedly. The birth of his second son had proven to be a point of transformation, for him. All his fears and worries, all his sorrows and losses somehow distilled and incorporated themselves into the joy of that experience. His injured son had found a new life; happy, deeply in love, and recovering. For Erestor to hold and encourage his wife, while watching the tiny elfling be birthed into the waiting hands of both Glorfindel and Alagos...so many burdens lifted. Erestor wished to honor both Gil-galad and the Lady Varda in naming his new son, though in Estelwen’s mind the imagery also had much to do with the bright light of Glorfindel’s spirit. While Elrond did not ask, the choice of name brought joy to him as well, since he too shared this tribute to the heavens above and the starlight that once graced their people. And Erestor knew something that Alagos did not; Orophin had come to speak privately to he and Estelwen just a few days earlier about a private matter.

One fine spring day some weeks later, Orophin pushed Alagos in his wheeled chair through the gardens of Imladris. These seemed to have changed so much in the short time since the war’s end, bearing an abundance of fruits and flowers. A cane was draped over the seat of this contrivance, for Orophin could by now walk quite well--as long as he had some means of support. As it worked out, the chair for his love served that purpose so very well. Just now the first roses bloomed, and the strawberries in their pots ripened. Color and loveliness graced everything on which their gaze fell.

“I like it here so much, Orophin,” the dark beauty said every time they visited.

“I know,” teased the elder ellon. “I but I still enjoy to hear you say it. And to be here with you.” Carefully, always mindful of the potential for his leg to give way suddenly, he walked around to face his lover and knelt, surprising Alagos. In his open palm were two silver rings. “Will you be mine, Alagos? I want to marry you; promise my life to you in the sight of our Father Eru.” The hazel eyes looked up, full of hope.

Joy suffused Alagos, who leaned down to kiss his beloved, first placing his hand over the rings to ensure they could not fall. “It would be my honor, Orophin, to walk at your side for all of the life that is granted to us.” Rings were quickly placed on eager fingers, and more kisses exchanged. The young ellon beamed with delight. “I never expected this,” he said softly, eyes filled with love. “Emel and adar lived as lovers for a very long time, before they wed. It would not have occurred to me.”

“I know, for they told me as well. I asked for their permission to marry you, not so long ago.”

“You did?” Alagos nearly swooned. This was quite possibly the most romantic gesture he had yet received from his lover. 

“Yes, for Haldir raised me to have respect. Show manners. It would have been different had your family lived elsewhere, but with them in our same living complex? That would have been completely unacceptable, to ignore parents as highly regarded as Erestor and Estelwen.”

Alagos looked down at Orophin’s hand, with the band of betrothal glinting there. “But I now cannot ask Haldir for your hand. I do not wish him to think ill of me. What do I do?”

“Nothing, for I wrote to my brother around the time Elgalad was born. That letters now go back and forth has been such a blessing. I told him my intention and he replied that when the time comes, if you accepted me, that it would be with his full approval. He loves you, Alagos, and wishes us joy.”

“I should still write to him myself, then,” Alagos said. “You are correct, in that our families deserve these courtesies.” He paused. “Did you speak to Glorfindel?”

“Yes,” Orophin laughed. “Please do not tease me, but I spoke to him first of all. While I do not fully understand the nature of his bond with your parents, it is obvious enough that it is an extremely close one. He is as much your father as Erestor, in my eyes. And I will pay him that same regard, beyond the reverence owed to him for...himself.”

 

“Huh. That is a good way to put it, what you said. I call him ‘uncle,’ but really, there is no word that suits. It is somewhere between interesting and difficult, when we lack the means to name something, is it not? I love and respect Glorfindel with all that I am. How could I not, after all he has done for me? For my family? But there are times I wish I...oh, what does it matter? We are happy. They are blessed. I do not need to understand everything. Being a warrior taught me that much.”

“True,” Orophin snickered. “Military service has its finer points, no doubt about it.”

“Smile and nod,” they said together in stereo, repeating an oft-reference tidbit of soldierly wisdom. 

“Pick out a flower to cut for me?” Alagos asked, kissing his love’s hand. “I wish to keep something to remember this moment, always. A blossom, to press in a book and then add to an artwork, once I gain more skill.” 

A chaste kiss was pressed against his lips, and they moved along. Above, unseen in a tree branch while he read his book, Glorfindel stretched and smiled.

**

“Well, I do not know what to call us either,” Estelwen said to Glorfindel and Erestor. “I think I view you as something of a free-ranging husband,” she grinned to the seneschal. “You are always here for what matters and most of the fun parts, but you often skip out on the more mundane aspects of life. Laundry. Diapers. Shopping at the market for Erestor’s treats. That kind of thing.”

“Erestor has treats?” Glorfindel asked, intrigued. 

“Well, yes. He loves those special dried fruits that are covered in a sweetened mix of cacao. They come from south of Gondor, the traders bring them up once or twice a year. He is also rather partial to oranges.”

“I am certain Glorfindel has better things to do than know about my little quirks, Estelwen,” the chief counselor blushed.

“Actually, I do not,” the seneschal said. “Unless you object. I love you, Erestor, as I love Estelwen. What I want to know now is if Estelwen has similar enjoyments?”

Erestor smiled. “Scented candles, for the bath. And raisins, made from the wine grapes of the eastern regions. And those multicolored inks that they know how to make in Lindon. Sometimes I have managed to find those things for Yule time.”

“What about you?” Estelwen asked Glorfindel, cornering him with eyes full of mischief. 

“Oh, I am very transparent,” the seneschal smiled. “Anything with celandines. Good food, good wine to share with you both. Fabrics of blue and green, for clothing.”

“Candles for his candle warmers,” Erestor finished. “So his baked apples cannot get cold.”

“Fair enough,” the blond agreed.

“What ‘bout me?” Elgalad asked, tugging at Glorfindel’s breeches, appearing from nowhere and very much suspecting he was being left out of important discussions about gift giving. 

“Oh, well we were discussing grown-up things. We cannot mention elfling things right now, or we would be in trouble,” Estelwen answered smoothly. 

“How?” Elgalad asked, his little face frowning with suspicion. He might be barely a year of age, but already he had learned that his elders’ words should not always be taken at face value. 

“We would be ruining your surprises, and if we did that, we would be terrible parents,” she said, picking him up to kiss him soundly on his cheeks until he giggled. “And you don’t want that to happen to us, do you?”

“No,” he admitted, succumbing to his mother’s reasoning, but disappointed. He did not know how to procure any of the things he had heard the adults discussing, unless maybe one of the artisans could teach him to make something of blue or green for Uncle Glorfindel? He would have to remember to ask. His dark brown hair bounced over his shoulders; it had not yet grown long. 

“Why don’t you come over here and tell me what it is you are thinking about?” Glorfindel suggested conspiratorially, holding his arms open in invitation. 

Finally! Uncle Glorfindel always seemed to understand. Leading him over to the corner, he whispered secretly (and therefore quite loudly) into the waiting ear that he wanted to be able to get presents for his parents, and brother, and that he did not know what Orophin might like (who was soon to be his extra brother). 

 

Estelwen found it necessary to hug Erestor, as it was the only means by which to keep the cuteness confined to the room. Glorfindel promised to help with these assorted quests, which left the little one very happy. Elgalad then returned to playing with his building blocks that had once belonged to Alagos.

“Back to the original question?” Erestor mused. “Why call us anything at all? Why accept a label, which is merely something for the convenience of others? I love you both, though I relate to you differently. I made vows to Estelwen when we married, but...if you wanted, I would make promises to you as well, Glorfindel. Do I need to? With one sanctioned exception, I have been faithful to only you two since Haldir was taken from us. While I will miss him in an intimate sense, I did not have the time to bond with him that you both did. For me it is...well, more than anything else, I respect that he is doing what he needs to do. For himself, for his people. I feel secure that I am doing the same.”

“You do not need to,” Glorfindel smiled, kissing Erestor’s cheek. “I believe you when you speak of your love for me, and your dedication. I appreciate the freedom you have given me, to live in commitment to you both while still leading something of a bachelor’s existence. I already decided, before the war--I am through with taking others to my bed. I would not deny Haldir were he ever to ask it of me again; we were lovers for a very long time. His decision surprised me, a little, but I am not offended either. My love for him in spirit exceeds my desire for him, though that will always be present. Here, I have the joys of family, your children...you both...I do not know what else we could do differently. I suppose we could ask for neighboring quarters; see if I could move. Though, what would the point be? My rooms are just down the hall.”

“Please do not give up your quarters,” Estelwen wheedled. “They have been a sanctuary for me. Or at least, I have always thought of them that way. They are where we have gone for privacy, intimacy without any risk of (she lowered her voice) curious children. For my part, I have had none but the two of you for a very long time. I feel as you do about Haldir, Glorfindel. I loved him in a special way, but the distance has made that seem like it belonged to another time. I could welcome him again, but am equally content to leave things be. Soon enough, Orophin will marry Alagos; Haldir will always be bound to us by this if in no other way. I love you both. While I still see the wisdom of discretion, I am not ashamed for others to know that I love Glorfindel. After all we have been through together, I find that I am not terribly concerned regarding what others feel is customary or usual. The years of fear and worry that I might lose one or both of you in war have rather altered my perspective on what matters and what does not.”

 

Erestor paused. “You are certain, Glorfindel? It was so important to you once, for others to understand that you would not limit yourself to only one lover. I have remembered, and never demanded, that you be exclusive to me. Or us.”

Glorfindel smiled. “I know. But...I have changed. You gave me the freedom that I demanded. In doing so, you captured my heart. I now forsake that independence willingly. I am where I wish to be, grateful to have a place with you. Between you.”

Estelwen smiled, and kissed Glorfindel’s hand; this was so much easier than seeking his lips, which were far out of reach. 

“Then we are family now; I will not hide it just as I will not explain it,” Erestor smiled mischievously. 

“I like that,” Glorfindel approved. “Family. I take you to be my family. All of you.”

“We are yours,” she affirmed, hugging his waist tightly.

“Uncle Glofin’el! Come lookit!” piped Elgalad’s excited voice. With a beautiful smile gracing his face, ‘Uncle Glofin’el’ did just that.

*****

“We wish to help plan the wedding, if we would be welcome,” Galadriel said. She and Celeborn sat in Elrond’s office, the stately pair gracing the Elflord’s office.

“Wedding?” Elrond said in a voice that  held a note of panic.

“Yes, the wedding of Orophin and Alagos?” Celeborn specified.

“Or did you perhaps have another ceremony in mind?” Galadriel asked innocently.

Elrond’s shoulders slumped. “I can see that I am trapped,” he replied, amused. “So I will address the latter question first. Lord and Lady, it is likely quite obvious that I have an attachment to your daughter, who is incomparable in my eyes for her wisdom, elegance, and grace of spirit. I ask your consent to formally court Celebrían. Please?”

“We are less traditional than we might seem,” Celeborn grinned. “You have it. We have expected this for some time. We are guessing you intend to take your time, should everything go well?”

“All things considered, I think it would be wise not to rush into anything. We have what I believe will be a time of prosperity and peace ahead. I want to savor every part of this. Growing together, and having a family,” he added. “I thank you, that you extend welcome to me.”

“We are all distant cousins,” Galadriel smiled. “You are already family, and those of us who knew the elder days are few on these shores. I am delighted that we will have closer ties. But...back to the wedding? We feel we owe a debt of gratitude to those who served us once. And Haldir and those belonging to him… it would be a chance to give back, a little.

“I would welcome it. Lindir is the closest we have to a planner of festivities. And he can occasionally lack an artistic touch.”

“Estelwen will not mind?” Galadriel asked.

Elrond laughed. “She is an exceedingly practical elleth not much given to...that sort of thing. Her art is in her words, and if I may offer, keeping a remarkable governance on both my chief counselor and my seneschal. Which means that she is arguably the most valuable member of my staff,” he grinned. “I think she will appreciate this a great deal. What befell Alagos...for a time I feared I would lose her. She loves her son fiercely, but in a different manner than many mothers. On the surface, she appears unconcerned, almost distant. But underneath that appearance of restraint, she cares deeply.”

“I could guess at this,” the Lady said softly. “Her demeanor is born out of an unusual capacity for self-denial. Not wishing to interfere or exceed what she believes is fitting in a given circumstance. It does not mean that she does not have emotions or desires, only that she places her own wants second.”

“I know. And I think so do those closest to her. Estelwen is small in stature but mighty in influence.”

“She wears that power lightly, which I would imagine makes her an exceptional advisor,” Celeborn commented. “We had hoped to scoop her out from under you, at one time. But with your Erestor is where she belongs.”

“Then I will count myself fortunate,” Elrond grinned, not having been entirely aware of all of this. “At some point, I think there are other matters we should discuss. We have a certain opportunity, to work together to build this refuge into something more than it is now. I think I need not specify what I mean. I would also like your counsel, for you have carried this responsibility longer than I have.”

“We have no plans to go elsewhere. And our daughter certainly is disinclined to leave; she has followed our wanderings uncomplainingly.”

“I am grateful for that. My prospects would be poor indeed if she were content to travel elsewhere, for I cannot. Imladris will be my task and my labor of love, my foresight tells me. I only hope that she will feel the same.”

Celeborn rose and laid a hand on his shoulder. “My guess is you need not worry, about that. We have time, to look forward to the joys ahead. It is why we went to war.”

“It is indeed,” Elrond answered softly. “And I intend that we will not have suffered our losses in vain. I am making it my purpose that evil will never enter this valley. This…” he looked outward, to the west. “This is...that which we fought to defend.”

*****

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Spiced_Wine for allowing me to borrow the very euphonic name of one of her original characters, Elgalad. 
> 
> And thank you, for reading! Something I saw not long ago pointed out...there are a great many stories out there in the world, and all of them are worthless without readers to give them meaning. 
> 
> Until the next installment of this series, myself and the elves of Lórien and Imladris wish you well!


End file.
